We Remain
by half agony and hope
Summary: "Lisbon is still not entirely sure that fleeing Sacramento is the best decision. However, she also recognizes that her current injury is a major liability for the group—she cannot protect herself, and she certainly cannot protect Charlotte. And Charlotte, of course, has become her and Jane's top priority. So flee they must." Sequel to "Til Our Souls Catch Us Up".
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Here's the long-promised sequel to "Til Our Souls Catch Us Up". There's been almost no passage of time between that story and this one - TOSCUU ended at night, and this begins the very next morning. Anyway, I've got the story completely outlined but not yet written, but I hope to update every week or so. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!**

 **One side note: I have no idea the layout of Lisbon's condo, so I'm making this up as I go. My apologies if it contradicts canon!**

 **Also, I've joined twitter, so if you want to chat over TM, I'm halfagonyhope over there. And, as always, you can find me on tumblr as halfagonyandhope.**

 **The title of the story and lyrics at the beginning of each chapter are from "We Remain" by Christina Aguilera.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _All the ways that you think you know me_

* * *

The call almost goes to voicemail before she picks up.

"Hey," Lisbon says, her voice still raspy with sleep, and she shifts to lean back against the pillows, moving slowly so as to not pull at the stitches in her chest.

"I woke you, didn't I?" Jane's voice is apologetic, and she cuts him off before he can continue.

"It's fine," she says, smiling slightly. She peels the bedsheets from her torso. "It's almost ten anyway. I needed to get up." She hesitates before adding, "And the sound of your voice is as good a wake-up call as anything."

The sound of his laughter through the phone makes her insides twist not unpleasantly.

When he doesn't answer, Lisbon continues. "Is everything alright?" she asks.

He takes a few seconds to speak. "I'm…I'm not sure," he finally says. "I'm nervous," he admits. "I haven't really had any connection to the carnie circuit in well over a decade. They're going to see me as a mark now."

Lisbon closes her eyes and wishes she were with him.

Earlier that morning, she'd felt Jane's lips against her own as he stole out of the bedroom. Still feeling hazy with pain medication, Lisbon had barely registered him leaving before sleep had pulled her under again.

Now, she blinks to clear the fog that's permeating through her brain and forces herself to focus on Jane. Who, at this very moment, should be right about ready to meet up with an old carnie friend of his who might be able to help them disappear.

Lisbon is still not entirely sure that fleeing Sacramento is the best decision. However, she also recognizes that her current injury is a major liability for the group—she cannot protect herself, and she certainly cannot protect Charlotte. And Charlotte, of course, has become her top priority.

So flee they must.

If they can disappear for a few months, she will be able to heal. She and Jane had decided to reassess their plans at that point.

Lisbon thinks back to Jane's last comment. "I can't imagine you ever being a mark," she says honestly. "I'm sure the moment you see your friend, those carnie instincts will come right back."

"That's what I'm afraid of," mutters Jane, so low she can barely hear him.

She stares at the window for a few seconds, taking in the soft sunlight as she tries to sort through his words.

"When will you be back?" she asks.

"Oh, this won't take long. And don't worry—Grace will keep me out of trouble."

Lisbon doubts this, but she'd insisted that Jane take Van Pelt with him. After the events a few days before, she refuses to allow any member of her team to go anywhere alone.

"How're your incisions feeling?" he asks, his tone entirely too light, and she notices that he's avoiding saying the word 'scars'.

"Fine," she says too quickly.

"Meaning you need more medication."

She rolls her eyes. "However did I survive without you in my life, Jane?"

"Quite well," he says, his tone on the edge of being bad-tempered. "Actually, you seem to be worse off after meeting me."

" _Jane—_ " she begins reproachingly, but he cuts her off.

"Sorry, Lisbon—got to go." She hears two car doors slam.

The line goes dead.

* * *

Lisbon sets the phone down, frowning, then reaches over to her bed stand for her pain pills. She swallows one with a sip of water from a glass Jane must have thought to leave for her before he left.

Grimacing slightly from the movement of twisting her torso, she shifts to slide out of bed, and she stands slowly. When her head doesn't spin, she gains confidence and takes the first few steps to the master bathroom.

A few minutes later, she walks slowly down the hall towards the guest bedroom, intending to check on Charlotte. She peeks her head in and raises her hand to knock on the doorframe, but one look at Charlotte causes her greeting to die in her throat.

Startled, Lisbon moves as quickly as she is able and kneels beside the teenager, who's curled up in a fetal position on the bed and holding one of Lisbon's childhood oversized teddy bears to her chest.

"Hey," Lisbon whispers, wincing from the abrupt movement. She reaches over to brush Charlotte's hair away from her face, revealing the tell-tale signs of tear tracks. "What happened?"

Charlotte doesn't bother wiping at her eyes. She hugs the bear closer.

When Charlotte doesn't answer right away, Lisbon reaches over to hug her. Though the position is a little uncomfortable, Charlotte seems to calm down as Lisbon rubs a hand up and down her back.

"I called Will," says Charlotte, and Lisbon pulls back to see her gesturing to Rigsby's phone, which lays abandoned on the floor near the end of the bed. Lisbon wonders vaguely if Rigsby has noticed yet that it's missing.

Lisbon turns her attention back to Charlotte and bites her lip, unsure. Though she'd only heard good things from Charlotte about her friend Will, whatever Charlotte's about to tell her, it can't be good news. And Lisbon had always been rubbish at dealing with relationships as a teenager.

"I just wanted to hear his voice." Charlotte releases her death grip on the bear, and Lisbon grabs her hand without thinking about it. "And then, completely out of the blue, he told me he loved me."

Charlotte's eyes mist over again, and Lisbon grips Charlotte's hand tighter. "What did you tell him?" Lisbon asks quietly.

"I said…I told him I didn't feel the same way."

Lisbon looks at Charlotte closely, recognizing right away that whatever Charlotte may have said to Will, she meant the exact opposite.

Lisbon takes a shaky breath.

"But you do," she says. "Feel the same, that is."

"Of course I do," whispers Charlotte. She sits up, brushing her hair over her shoulder and the tears off her cheeks. She moves to sit beside Lisbon on the floor, leaning her back against the bed. She shrugs helplessly. "But you and Dad and me…we're leaving. We might not be back for a while. Maybe not _ever_. And I can't tell Will where we're going—for his safety and ours. I shouldn't have even called him."

This was Lisbon's first thought as well, but Charlotte looks so miserable that she can't bring herself to scold the girl.

Lisbon holds Charlotte's gaze patiently, prompting her to continue.

"Will's the kind of guy who people write movies about. If he knew I loved him back, he'd wait for me. He'd put his life on hold, waiting for the day I could come back." Charlotte's hand clenches into a fist. "And I can't do that to him. I want him to be happy, and he wouldn't be happy if I told him how I felt."

Lisbon's heart breaks.

Because she knows exactly how it feels to be unequivocally, irrevocably in love with a man and not be able to tell him.

She blinks several times to dispel the moisture pooling in her eyes, then she lays one arm around Charlotte's shoulders to tug the teenager against her.

Charlotte leans her head on Lisbon's shoulder, and Lisbon rests the side of her head on Charlotte's temple.

"Did I do the right thing?" Charlotte whispers, pulling her knees to her chest.

Lisbon breathes in deeply. "It's what I would have done," she says.

They both know it's not an answer, but it's the best Lisbon can give.

* * *

Lisbon tries not to check her phone too often, but when an hour passes without word from Jane, she dials his number, needing to hear the bravado in his voice.

He doesn't pick up.

Lisbon closes her eyes, clutching the phone tightly. Then she looks over at Cho, who's sitting with her in her living room at the other end of the couch.

"They should be back by now."

He looks up from _Ulysses_ , his gaze more impassive than usual. "I know," he says, his voice tight.

They only hold each other's gaze for a second, but it's more than enough time for Lisbon to gather that Cho is uneasy.

"Teresa!"

Lisbon looks to the top of the staircase where Charlotte has appeared. Only the faintest traces of red remain around her eyes.

"There's a woman walking up to your door," whispers Charlotte.

Lisbon freezes for a second, startled, but then Cho is on his feet and she is only a half second behind him. He's reaching for his gun, and Rigsby appears from the kitchen with his weapon drawn as well. They both turn toward the front door, and Cho gestures with a quick jerk of his head for Lisbon to go upstairs.

But Lisbon is already moving, and she clears the stairs faster than she'd thought possible with her handicap. She reaches for Charlotte and pulls her down the hall. But as they move past the guest room, something in the window catches Charlotte's eye, and she slips out of Lisbon's grip.

" _Charlotte!_ " Lisbon almost shrieks. The guest room overlooks the front door—going towards that window is the last thing they should be doing.

"I didn't see her well at first glance," says Charlotte, moving around the bed, drawn to the window as if in a trance. Lisbon tries to keep up, but the ache in her chest has returned after her flight up the stairs, and she's beginning to feel faint. Charlotte continues. "But I've seen that woman before."

There's a knock on the door.

Lisbon forgets how to breathe.

Charlotte reaches the window and looks down, one hand raised to touch the glass. "I know I've seen her before. I _know_ I have."

Lisbon finally reaches Charlotte. "Come on," she says, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the window. "If she's armed…"

Charlotte doesn't budge. Instead, she looks up at Lisbon with big, sea-green eyes, and Lisbon remembers a million times that Jane has given her that precise look—the look he wears when he's just pieced something together.

"My parents had photographs of her," says Charlotte softly. "Ratty, battered photographs, and there were only two—but it's definitely her."

Forgetting herself for a few seconds, Lisbon looks around Charlotte to glance out the window, making sure to keep out of the woman's line of vision.

The woman is petite, maybe Charlotte's size, with curly hair that might have been sand-colored at one point but is now more gray than blonde. Lisbon can't make out more than her profile, but she's sure she's never seen the woman before.

"You don't have any idea who she might be?" asks Lisbon quietly, moving slowly away from the window and grabbing Charlotte's arm again. This time, Charlotte lets herself be pulled away, and Lisbon leads them across the hall into the master bedroom.

The woman knocks again. Lisbon fervently hopes Cho and Rigsby have their guns trained on the door.

Lisbon forces herself to focus on Charlotte, who's leaning against Lisbon's bed. "A carnie friend of your dad's maybe?" Lisbon asks. "Or a relative?"

Charlotte's gaze snaps up. "Yes," she says.

"What?"

"A relative. I can't remember her name, but I'm pretty sure she's from my dad's side of the family. I've never met her, obviously, and I think Dad only ever mentioned her once, so I'm not completely sure."

Lisbon has no idea what to say to this. She curses the pain medication she's on for making her brain feel like it's running at half speed.

Suddenly, something falls into place.

"Did your father tell you who he was meeting today?" she asks.

Charlotte shakes her head. "He just said he was going to talk to someone from the circuit."

Lisbon tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "What if that woman is who he met?"

At this moment, Rigsby appears in the doorway, cutting off Charlotte's question before she can ask it. "Boss," he says. "You're going to want to see this."

Lisbon turns around to glance at Rigsby. His expression immediately tells her he does not bear good news.

"She's gone now," he says quickly. "But I think she knew we were here."

"How do you know?" asks Lisbon.

Rigsby gives her a pained look. "She left this," he said, holding out his hand to her, "on your doorstep."

And he presses a slightly tarnished ring into Lisbon's hands.

A pain that has nothing to do with her stitched-up chest threatens to consume her when she realizes what she's holding.

Her fingers close around Jane's wedding band.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you all for your comments on the first chapter! I had more time this week to write than I'd expected, so here's an update a couple of days early. I'll try to update again this weekend :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _All the limits that you figured out_

* * *

 _An hour earlier_

Jane closes the door to the Citroen and takes a step forward. Though speaking with Lisbon has calmed his nerves, he's still far more anxious than he expected to be.

Maybe it had been the right choice to leave the carnie world behind after all.

Van Pelt comes to stand by his side, and her eyes follow his across the parking lot of the shabby-looking diner where they've planned the meet-up.

"Who is she?" asks Van Pelt, and they both take in the older woman who's just stepped out of a taxi.

"My godmother," says Jane quietly, and he watches as the taxi drives away. He begins walking across the asphalt.

The woman spots him right away and stops dead, right in the middle of the parking lot.

Jane almost smiles. Despite the fact that her hair is now gray rather than blonde, she has it pulled back in a knot, precisely as she had worn it the day Jane had seen her last.

His wedding day.

God, it feels like a lifetime ago.

When he approaches, he watches her warily, not able to get a read on her. He's not surprised.

She had, after all, been the one to teach him how to mask what he was really feeling.

Jane is vaguely aware of Van Pelt following behind him, but his attention is entirely on his godmother. It's reassuring, he thinks, how little she's changed, really. There are more lines on her face, and she's gained a few pounds, but her dark brown eyes are every bit as piercing as Jane remembers.

"Hi Katie," he says, and his voice breaks on the last syllable.

Her mask breaks at precisely the same moment, and her hand goes to cover her heart. "My God, child," she says, and the sound of her voice brings back memories of afternoon tea in a silver Airstream and never knowing where exactly in the country they were. She takes a step forward, and her eyes rove up and down, cataloguing every piece of him.

Then she gathers him into her arms.

Jane feels the tension dissipate from his body as he returns the embrace, and he sighs. "I missed you," he breathes.

She squeezes his torso. "Then why didn't you keep in touch?" she says.

Jane closes his eyes. "After the way we left, I didn't think you'd want to hear from me again."

"Oh, Patrick, you're the same as ever. Always thinking you know more than you really do."

She pulls back and smiles at Van Pelt. "Katherine O'Connell," she says, extending her hand.

Van Pelt shakes it. "I'm Grace," she says.

"I work with Grace," says Jane. "Grace, Katherine was my mother's best friend before she died."

"Nice to meet you," says Van Pelt, trying but failing to hide her surprised look at Jane's casual mention of his mother. He knows he hasn't ever said a word about her to the team, and he decides to begin to rectify that by confiding in Lisbon.

"You as well, dear," says Katherine. She looks at Jane again. Her eyes narrow, and Jane wonders if this is how suspects feel when he tries to cold read them. "Let's go inside, shall we? I'm under the impression that you have a lot to tell me."

Jane nods and falls into step at his godmother's side. Van Pelt follows behind them.

They sit down at a table near the front windows. Business is slow at this hour, so a waitress takes their order right away. Jane asks for tea and a plate of eggs without looking at the menu, and as the others place their orders, he glances around the diner. His gaze lands on a young couple with a baby that looks no more than two weeks old. The woman appears exhausted but euphoric, and Jane has to look away.

As the waitress rushes off, Katherine leans forward, pressing her forearms to the table. Jane notices a light band of skin on the ring finger of her left hand. He resolves to ask her about this at some point, but he has the feeling she is doing alright regardless of what her answer will be.

He'd never much cared for her husband anyway.

"Patrick, what's going on?"

Jane taps his fingers together, wondering where to begin. "How much do you know about what happened all those years ago?"

"A bit," admits Katherine. "It's all anyone at the carnival could talk about for weeks."

"I imagine," says Jane harshly, and Van Pelt winces at his tone. "I bet a lot of people thought I'd got what I deserved for leaving you all."

Katherine sucks in a deep breath. "First of all, no one deserves what happened to you, Patrick. No one in the world deserves that. And second, no matter what anyone else back at the carnival may think, I don't blame you one second for leaving."

Jane's eyes snap up to hers. "You don't?"

"Of course not," she says, as though he's a complete idiot for not having come to this conclusion himself.

 _Lisbon will like her_ , thinks Jane.

"I knew you had to leave," says Katherine. "After your mother died, your father—"

Jane cuts her off at this. He has no desire to talk about his father.

"So you know what happened to Angela and Charlotte," says Jane, glancing at Van Pelt and then back to Katherine, who nods.

"I'm so sorry," she says.

Jane looks away, feeling his stomach twist at the thought of Angela. He wonders if he'll ever be able to say her name without feeling like he's suffocating.

He forces himself to think of Charlotte instead. Charlotte—who's very much still alive.

Jane looks back at his godmother. "Charlotte wasn't killed that night," he says in a low voice.

Katherine blinks at him, and her lower lip drops a fraction of an inch. Then she looks at Van Pelt for confirmation. When Van Pelt nods, Katherine turns her attention back to her godson.

"Charlotte's alive," Jane says. "And I found her. Or rather—she found me." He can't help the soft smile that spreads across his face at the words.

Katherine's hand goes to cover her heart again, and Jane watches as she searches his eyes. "I can't…I can't believe it. This…this is the best news I've heard in, well...a very long time." And she reaches over to take Jane's hand.

At this moment, the waitress returns with their food. Van Pelt politely thanks her when she sets down the plates, but none of the three move to touch their food, and the waitress walks away, shooting them a confused look.

Jane leans closer to Katherine and lowers his voice. "Red John kept her a secret from me all these years in order to bring her back to me now. He'd had it planned all along."

Katherine's brow furrows. "Why return her now?"

Jane glances at Van Pelt, who looks away with a smile, clearly knowing what his answer will be.

"It's complicated," says Jane. "But what it comes down to was that Red John was watching me, and he knew I had fallen in love."

There is a beat of silence, and then Katherine grins. "Oh, Patrick, no one deserves that more than you," she says.

Jane feels a faint blush creep up the side of his neck, but he dispels thoughts of Lisbon for the time being. "Red John planned to return Charlotte to me only to take her away again."

Katherine immediately figures it out. "And this woman," she whispers. "He wanted to take her, too?"

Jane's eyes harden. "He succeeded," he says harshly. "We got them back, but…as they say, the calm in the storm is only temporary. That's why I need your help. I need to get Charlotte and Teresa out of Sacramento. We need to disappear."

Katherine breathes out deeply. "You have unbelievable timing. We're just about to leave California sometime in the next few days and head to the Midwest for the summer."

"So you'll help us?" asks Jane.

"Of course I will, dear," Katherine says. "When have I ever been able to refuse that charming smile of yours?"

The corners of Jane's mouth twitch up, but before he can begin to laugh, he hears the sound of police sirens.

He glances at Van Pelt out of the corner of his eyes. "You don't think…"

Van Pelt's face goes ashen. "It's possible there are members of the cult in the CBI," she whispers. "And if they found that we used that phone trace, they'd have grounds to arrest us. It _was_ illegal."

Jane closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. Then he opens them and turns to look at his godmother.

He rattles off Lisbon's address, knowing Katherine will have no problem stowing the information away.

He'd had to learn his memory palace from someone.

"I need you to go to that address," he pleads. "My friend Teresa Lisbon lives there—she's who I need you to help. Get her and Charlotte as far away from Sacramento as you can."

The sirens get louder.

Jane looks down at his hand and pulls off his ring. "Give this to Teresa," he says, "so she'll know that you're who you say you are—that you're telling the truth. Tell her and Charlotte to go with you—they need to stay _safe_." His voice breaks again. "Tell them I'll find them as soon as I can."

Katherine doesn't question this, and he drops the ring into her hand.

"You need to leave," says Jane. "You can't be seen with us, alright?"

She nods, her eyes wide for a second. But then the mask falls into place again, and Jane knows he was right to trust Katherine. He knows of no one more clever—and no one with such heart.

Katherine rushes out the door of the diner and walks calmly to the bookstore the next lot over. Jane watches her go, and he lowers his hands to his lap when he realizes they're shaking.

"Are they going to arrest Rigsby and Cho as well?" whispers Van Pelt as the squad cars come into view, their lights nearly blinding. "They're just as guilty as you or me."

"They'll leave Rigsby and Cho," Jane says. Somehow, he is sure of it. "They don't want all of us in jail together—it'd be too easy for us to plan something. No, their goal is to break us up. They think it'll make us weaker."

The squad cars arrive in the parking lot and screech to a halt. Four officers slam their doors and head toward the diner.

"Will it?" asks Van Pelt as they walk inside.

"I don't know," he admits.

Then he downs the last of his tea and raises his arms to place his hands on his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks again for your comments and support of this story! I'm glad many of you seem to like Katherine so far - we'll get to learn a little more about her here. We're back in Lisbon's POV for this chapter, which takes place immediately after the events of the first chapter. The next is nearly finished, so it seems like I might continue to update this faster than I'd originally thought :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Had to learn to keep it all below me_

* * *

Lisbon lets the panic she's feeling overwhelm her for two seconds, then she forces herself to look up at Rigsby with a steady gaze.

"Find her," she says, and she thinks her voice sounds like someone's been sandpapering her vocal chords. "Make sure she's unarmed, and bring her back. I need to speak with her."

Rigsby sends a worried glance at Charlotte then looks back at Lisbon. "You got it, Boss," he says, and he hurries out of the room, his gun still in his right hand.

Lisbon turns to face Charlotte, who hastily removes her eyes from Lisbon's clenched fist.

"He had that ring on this morning," says Charlotte, crossing her arms across her chest. "The only way that woman could have it is if she's the person he met. But why would he give it to her?"

Lisbon shakes her head. "I have no idea," she says. "This ring is…it's almost like a second skin for Jane. I don't remember ever seeing him without it."

Charlotte takes two steps forward to stand by Lisbon's side. "It must be important, then—whatever's happened. For him to take it off."

"With Jane, it's got to mean something. He's trying to send a message."

Charlotte's eyes widen. "You think that woman has the message."

"I know she does."

Lisbon hears the sound of her front door open. "All clear, Lisbon," says Cho, and Lisbon makes to move out of the room. Then she hesitates.

She steps back to grab her gun from her nightstand, and she holsters it on her hip.

Charlotte follows her out of the room.

When they clear the landing at the bottom of the stairs, Lisbon gets her first clear view of the older woman, who is standing between Cho and Rigsby, looking far calmer than any normal civilian should be in a room with three armed cops. Lisbon's eyes narrow. That strange calm, that mask—both seem too familiar to her.

Lisbon reminds herself that this woman may be a relative of Jane's. Of course she'd be equally difficult to read.

However, the woman's unreadable expression crumbles into oblivion the second she lays eyes on Charlotte, and Lisbon instinctively steps in front of the teenager as though she somehow needs protecting from this woman's gaze.

Lisbon glances at Charlotte, who looks confused more than anything, before turning her attention back to the older woman. As they approach her, Lisbon notices that her brown eyes have the same piercing intelligence that she has come to associate with Jane.

"Who are you?" asks Lisbon, and Charlotte comes to stop next to her shoulder. "How do you know my—"

Lisbon stops midsentence, wondering what she was planning to say.

 _My boyfriend? My friend?_

 _My Jane?_

"How do you know Patrick?" she asks instead.

But the woman is not listening—her attention is still completely focused on Charlotte. She grasps the edges of the light shawl around her shoulders and pulls it tighter around her.

"I'm sorry," she says. "It's just…it's like seeing a ghost. Twice over." She smiles at Charlotte. "You look so like your mother when she was your age. Her hair was darker, but…my God. I never thought I'd get to see you."

Charlotte moves closer to Lisbon, clearly uncomfortable, and Lisbon steps forward. "Who are you?" she asks again, this time more forcefully.

The woman looks at Lisbon as though just noticing her presence. "My name is Katherine. Katherine O'Connell. Patrick is my godson."

Lisbon glances at Charlotte, who'd been right, in a sense, in identifying the woman as a relative.

Though Katherine isn't blood-related to Jane, she is family.

"You met him today?" asks Lisbon.

Katherine nods. "He said you needed help. Before we could discuss specifics, we heard sirens, and he told me to leave. I watched Patrick and his friend being arrested from a window in the bookstore next door."

" _Arrested?_ " asks Lisbon, but it comes out sounding more like a gasp for breath than an actual word. "What for?"

Cho and Rigsby exchange a look. Cho sighs. "We used an illegal trace to track Bertram's cell phone the night you and Charlotte disappeared," he says. "We used Van Pelt's computer, and on Jane's order. Whoever is still involved in this Red John thing—well, they must have found out."

Lisbon has to stop herself from reaching for her gun. "Are we in danger?" she asks.

"If they wanted us—or you—they know where we are," Rigsby points out. "They'd have made their move by now. Instead, they waited to take Jane and Van Pelt until they were away from the group—that means they don't want a fuss."

"And believe me, we'd put up a fuss," says Cho.

"He was arrested?" asks Charlotte, her voice smaller than Lisbon has ever heard it. Lisbon glances at her over her shoulder. Charlotte's bottom lip has dropped a fraction of an inch, and Lisbon can tell she can't quite get herself to believe what's she's hearing.

Lisbon squeezes Charlotte's hand quickly before turning her attention back to Katherine.

"Why did you bring Patrick's ring here?" she asks.

Katherine holds her gaze. "He said you'd know it meant I wasn't lying."

"He gave it to you to bring to me?"

"Yes, right before I fled from the diner."

"What else did he tell you?"

The first traces of fear flash across Katherine's face. "He says you need to leave Sacramento—it's not safe here for you, or for Charlotte."

Lisbon holds her gaze, debating.

 _I've just met this woman_ , she thinks. _And now I'm supposed to trust her with my life? With Charlotte's?_

Katherine's eyes narrow slightly, as though she knows exactly what's running through Lisbon's mind.

 _Just what I need_ , Lisbon thinks irritably. _Someone else who can read my thoughts before I think them._ An image of Jane flashes through her mind.

And suddenly she knows she must trust this woman. Jane trusts her, after all—enough to entrust her with his wedding ring in hopes that she would bring it to Lisbon. Which she has.

Jane trusts Katherine. And Lisbon trusts Jane.

But what if bringing the ring to her hadn't been Jane's plan after all? What if something more sinister is at play? What if the ring had been taken from him?

Lisbon's doubt intensifies.

She weighs her options, but eventually she realizes she and Charlotte will be unsafe anywhere they are.

And this message has "Jane" written all over it. Surely only he could be responsible.

This last thought is what ultimately helps her make her decision, but it is still a leap of faith.

Lisbon sighs. "I know," she says in response to Katherine's last statement. "We need to go."

"No," says Charlotte, and everyone turns to look at her. She looks like she's too overwhelmed to process what's going on. "I'm not leaving without him."

Lisbon raises an eyebrow—Charlotte has acted with such poise that it seems odd for her to act her age for once.

It's too easy for Lisbon to forget that Charlotte is still a teenager.

A teenager who just found out her father has been arrested.

Lisbon shifts to place her arms on Charlotte's shoulders. "Look at me," she says firmly, and Charlotte meets her gaze. "You know that I would go to hell and back for your father. I will do whatever I can to make sure he is safe. But right now, the thing he wants most in the world is to keep _you_ safe. I promise you, he couldn't care less about being in jail as long as he knows you and I are as far from Sacramento as we can get. We have to do that for him, okay?"

Charlotte scrunches her eyes shut. "I don't think I can," she whispers.

Lisbon leans down to bring her face closer to Charlotte's. "The last thing I want to do is leave him, Charlotte." She can barely get the words out, and even when she does, they come out mangled and strained. Charlotte opens her eyes. "Leaving him is going to tear me apart," Lisbon whispers, the words barely audible.

Charlotte finally nods. "Okay."

Lisbon squeezes Charlotte's shoulders before letting her hands fall. "Rigsby, Cho—you'll have to stick around. We'll need a CBI presence to keep tabs on Jane and Van Pelt before we can break them out."

Charlotte's breath hitches. "Break them out?"

"We're not losing them into the system," says Lisbon determinedly. "Who knows how far up that cult has influence? The sooner we can get them out, the better. When they're free, you all will meet up with us. Then we'll figure out how to dismantle this thing. Whatever it is."

"Isn't this exactly what Red John wants?" asks Charlotte, her face ever paler than normal. "All of us splitting up, going our separate ways?"

Lisbon glances at Cho and Rigsby, both of whom are scowling slightly.

"Red John may think he's weakening us by splitting us up," she says. "All he's succeeded in doing is making us that much more determined to get Jane and Van Pelt out of there so we can take his group down for good."

She turns back to Katherine. "What did Patrick want us to do?"

Katherine gestures to the east. "We're set up about forty-five minutes outside of town," she says. "And we're getting ready to head to the Midwest in the next few days. Patrick wanted me to take you with."

Lisbon ponders this. "Can you afford to wait to return until nightfall? It'd be safer for us to travel in the dark—it's easier to see if we're being followed."

Katherine nods. "Of course."

"Good." She glances at Charlotte. "Your stuff is packed, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then we're mostly set. Cho, Rigsby—we'll need a plan to make sure Charlotte, Katherine, and I can't be followed when we leave town. And we need to figure out what to do about Van Pelt and Jane."

"You got it, Boss," says Rigsby, and after he glances at Cho, the two of them head into the kitchen. Lisbon hears their chairs scrape against the floor as they sit down to being hashing out a course of action.

Katherine takes a step forward, nearly within arm's reach of Lisbon. Though Katherine is a couple of inches shorter than Lisbon, the way she holds herself makes her seem taller than she is.

"Thank you," Katherine says. "Thank you for looking after him all these years. I don't think he'd be alive if he hadn't found you."

Lisbon blinks rapidly, surprised at these words. How much had Jane told this woman about their relationship?

As Lisbon studies Katherine's face, she realizes that Jane probably told her very little. If Katherine is anything like her godson, she could have read all that from Lisbon's emotions in the few minutes they'd known each other.

Lisbon nods, still shaken slightly, and heads into the kitchen to talk with Cho and Rigsby.

* * *

Their escape from the city that night feels anticlimactic.

Cho and Rigsby come up with an elaborate scenario involving three car changes, and Lisbon even gives Charlotte a scarf to wear over her tell-tale blonde locks in order to prevent being recognized. But there is no sign of any tail on them, from the air or the ground, and soon Lisbon and Charlotte are staring at Cho's taillights as he drives away from them in the darkness.

Lisbon says a silent prayer for him and Rigsby.

She says several for Van Pelt and Jane.

* * *

It is well after midnight, and Lisbon is still awake.

Earlier, Katherine had led them along the edges of the too-cheery music and sugary smells and neon lights of the carnival as they made their way toward the land where the workers' trailers and mobile homes were parked.

Katherine's home is an old, silver Airstream with a fold-out couch, a bunkbed built into the wall, a tiny kitchenette, and a too-small bathroom. Charlotte had glanced once at Lisbon before offering to take the top bunk, clearly mindful of Lisbon's injury.

The teenager fell asleep right away.

Lisbon is envious.

She doubts she will sleep well for a very long time.

Lisbon slides out of the lower bunk carefully and moves silently to the front of the Airstream. She climbs into the passenger seat and stares at the bright lights beyond her. As she watches, the lights from the Ferris wheel go dark, and she knows the carnival is shutting down for the night.

She pulls her knees up to her chest and leans her head against the window.

A warm hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and Lisbon jumps.

"Sorry," whispers Katherine as she sits down in the driver's seat to face Lisbon. "Just wanted to make sure you were alright."

Lisbon looks at her, surprised. She's not used to this—being looked after, like a mother would a daughter. It's disconcerting.

Katherine smiles. "It's funny," she says quietly. "Whenever Patrick and his father had an argument, he'd stay over at my place and spend the whole night exactly where you are now. It's been years now, so I have a different Airstream," she admits, "but that's where he'd be. I just...I saw you, and it brought back memories."

Lisbon shifts to face her. "What was he like?" she asks, curious. "You know, when he was a boy."

Katherine thinks about her answer before she speaks. "Charming," she says, smiling. "There was always a flock of girls following him around. Especially during his teenage years."

"He dated a lot?" Lisbon has a difficult time picturing this, but of course Jane had had a life before Angela.

Katherine shakes her head. "No," she says. "I don't think he really had any desire to date, though there was certainly interest in him. No, as far as I know, Patrick has only dated Angela and you."

For some reason, the thought cheers Lisbon considerably.

"I never had kids," says Katherine, "but if I did, I would've wanted them to be like Patrick." She gives Lisbon a nostalgic smile. "He'd come over every Sunday to visit and have dinner, despite the fact that he disliked my husband. Patrick was everything you'd want your child to be—considerate, kind, intelligent, and fiercely protective. But he hated his life here. I could tell. And that's why I was happy when he and Angela left. Because it made him happy."

"You knew Angela?" asks Lisbon, remembering that Katherine had thought Charlotte resembled her.

"I introduced them," says Katherine with a sad smile. "Angela was my niece."

Lisbon shifts uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

"It was a long time ago," says Katherine. She smiles sadly. "But what matters now is that Patrick has Charlotte—and he has you." She leans over to Lisbon. "The way he smiled when he told me about you this morning—he was absolutely enamored. If there's anything in the world I'm sure about, it's that Patrick will find his way back to you."

She stands up to make her way back to the couch, touching Lisbon's shoulder again as she leaves.

Lisbon sighs, wishing she shared Katherine's certainty.

She feels the warm weight of Jane's ring in her hand, and she raises it up to examine it more closely. It catches the moonlight.

Blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes, she unfastens the clasp on her cross necklace and slides the ring onto the chain.

The ring settles over her heart, and Lisbon closes her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hello again! Thanks, as always, for following this story and for your comments. I haven't had time to respond to them, but I read all of them and always appreciate that you've taken time out of your day to tell me what you think. So here's the next chapter, and I don't think that it will come as a surprise to any of you that it's my favorite so far.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Just to keep from being thrown around_

* * *

Jane lifts his left hand out in front of him in the darkness. He blinks, still getting used to the look of his bare ring finger.

He'd found himself reaching for the absent ring several times since he and Van Pelt had been arrested. He can still feel its phantom weight on his finger.

And since the lights had gone out to mark his first night back in prison, he'd found himself with another phantom presence. He'd grown used to sleeping by Lisbon's side. Every time he shifts on the stiff prison bunk, he half expects to feel her move in response next to him.

It's too cold without her.

Jane mentally shakes himself. He cannot afford to dwell on Lisbon or on Charlotte—he must not worry about whether or not they got out of the city safely. Because he needs to be planning.

Planning will get him back to them.

But this is excruciatingly difficult. He finds he cannot ignore the painful anxiety that has his every muscle tense, his every cell paralyzed for fear they didn't make it out.

Jane takes a deep breath.

 _Focus._

But a picture of Charlotte appears in his mind instead. Jane can only watch, helpless, as her image breaks up, fading to black.

Lisbon appears next, her eyes questioning and scared as she gazes down at his ring in her small, strong hands.

 _Focus_.

Jane's cellmate coughs, and it is this sound which brings him back to the present. Jane stares up at the ceiling and closes his eyes against the darkness of the cell.

A plan begins to take form.

* * *

"Hey, Red."

Van Pelt looks up from _The Sound and The Fury_ —the plot is terrible, but apparently prison inmates can't be choosy—at the sound of the voice coming from the hallway. She climbs down from her bunk and glances at her cellmate, a late twenty-something drug addict who's far from conscious despite the fact that it's well after noon. Van Pelt moves to lean against the bars of the door.

"Me?" she asks, though she's sure the comment was addressed to her. None of the other inmates she's seen have red hair.

The woman in the cell next to her speaks again. "The psychic has a show tomorrow."

"What?" says Van Pelt, nonplussed. She can't even see the woman who's talking to her—the voice could just as well be coming from thin air.

"I'm just the messenger, kid," says the voice, but despite Van Pelt's attempts to respond, the woman will say no more.

* * *

A guard opens the cell and motions to Jane, who hops down quickly from the bunk. _About time_ , he thinks. He doesn't think it had taken this long for him to get an hour out of his cell the last time he'd been in jail.

Jane realizes he's been thinking about his "last time in jail" as though it is a common occurrence for him.

This madness has to end.

The guard leads him down the gray hallway, and Jane tries to avoid looking at any of the people in the cells he's passing. At the end of the corridor, though, as he waits for the guard to open the doors to the communal area, Jane catches the eye of the man in the cell nearest him.

Jane cannot look away fast enough.

The man's skin clings to little more than bone, reminding Jane of a case he'd worked once where the remains had essentially been mummified.

Jane swallows and rocks back and forth on his feet.

The guard finally opens the door, and Jane steps into the common area. As he looks around, he notes it hasn't changed all that much since he'd been here last—it's still dreary as hell. But he catalogues everything and everyone, sizing up the inmates and deciding who to use as marks.

Several of the men playing poker jeer loudly as another collects his winnings. Jane immediately focuses in on the group.

By the tattoos decorating their bodies, Jane immediately suspects at least four of them are involved in Sacramento gangs. The two others are muscular enough to be body builders, and Jane doesn't have to wonder why they're in jail.

Jane takes a deep breath.

"Go big or go home," he mutters to himself, and he strides across the room to join the game.

* * *

For the second night in a row, Jane sleeps very little.

Instead, he mentally goes over the layout of the prison, making sure he has every hallway mapped out to the best of his knowledge.

He spends the next morning walking through his memory palace, revisiting ordinary days he'd spent with Charlotte and her mother.

His heart contracts uncomfortably when he thinks about Angela, and he wonders how she would react to him taking off his ring. He's afraid to admit it to himself, but he doesn't think he will put it back on. Would Angela understand?

He doesn't have an answer.

The hours pass far too slowly for his liking, but finally the guard arrives to take him to the common area again. And like yesterday, Jane heads for the poker table.

Jane makes sure the man directly to his right wins the first round easily and then wastes no time in setting things rolling.

One of the poker players—a man with small, black eyes and slight overbite—swears at the winner in Spanish. The winner swears back—in English this time, and Jane is impressed by his creative imagery.

Then Jane wraps his knuckles quietly on the table three times.

All the poker players immediately snap, as do several other nearby inmates. Jane lunges away from the resulting dogpile of bodies, moving toward the door to the common area and waiting just beside it.

The gag is more effective than he'd intended—he'd only planned on hypnotizing the poker players, but it seems as though anyone who'd been within earshot of the game yesterday is getting involved in the tussle.

Two guards immediately rush in, but Jane lets the door close behind them without moving. The guards run toward the pile of flailing arms and legs, and the sound of someone's head being bashed against the floor is accompanied by a low scream so loud Jane nearly puts his hands over his ears. Three more guards run through the doorway, followed by four more close behind, all of whom Jane recognizes as normally manning the security desk.

Jane slips through the cell door just before it shuts, unnoticed by the preoccupied guards.

Though Jane had been counting on all the guards in the area being called in to break up the fight, he hadn't _actually_ expected his plan to work. But desperation is a powerful motivator, so he'd tried anyway.

He can't stop his hands from trembling as he moves down the hall.

The corridor containing the cells is already roused by the sounds of the fight coming from the common area, so the noise the prisoners make when they see Jane walk by them doesn't seem to draw the attention of the guards attempting to break up the fight. When Jane nears a fork in the hallway, he jumps over the desk separating the hallway from the security office, which is now, as he had expected, empty. He heads to the back of the office, toward a door marked "Changing Facilities". Trying to dismiss the slightly panicky feeling that threatens to rise up within him, Jane heads through the door and rushes to the lockers, looking for the first signs of security clothing he can find. He encounters some in the fourth locker he tries, and he stuffs his prison blues in the nearest trash bin after he changes.

Then he heads back to the security office, pulling a cap over his curls.

He frantically heads to the computer screens. Disregarding all the security feeds of male prisoners, he searches for signs of fiery red hair among the female inmates. Van Pelt sticks out immediately.

A walkie-talkie goes off somewhere to his right.

"Hey—heard there was an issue over there. Is everything alright?"

Jane swears under his breath. Will they send backup if he doesn't answer?

Deciding not to risk it, he grabs the walkie-talkie and attempts his best impersonation of the guard who had taken him to the common area.

"Yes, sir," Jane says with a slight Midwest accent. "There was a little scuffle, but it's all taken care of now."

"Copy that."

The walkie-talkie goes silent.

Jane breathes out, then he scans the rest of the feeds from the female prison block. He doesn't see any guards.

He grins.

Have they all been pulled to respond to the fight?

 _Would this actually work?_

He realizes it's about time something went right for him.

Still giddy with disbelief, Jane takes one last look at the computer screens, grabs an abandoned set of keys from the countertop, and leaps over the desk again. This time, he heads down the other hallway, toward the female inmate section.

He has to remind himself to move slowly, to act like he is supposed to be here—but he's all too aware that the pants he's stolen are about an inch too short for him and the jacket is two sizes too big.

After what seems like an eternity, he reaches Van Pelt's cell. She's waiting for him, clearly having received his message, and her unconscious cellmate doesn't even stir from her position on the bed as Jane opens the door and closes it after Van Pelt slips by.

Van Pelt is shaking beside him as they move down the hall, and the prisoners in this block begin to get louder as they realize something is not right about the two figures moving past them. But by the time they figure out what's going on, Jane and Van Pelt have vaulted over the desk, and he leads her to the changing room. He tosses her a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the nearest locker, and Jane exchanges his security guard jacket for a zip-up hoodie.

They rush out the door just as a siren begins to roar.

* * *

Van Pelt finds three quarters in her pocket, and they stop at the Burger King down the street in order to call Cho on a payphone.

He tells them to keep moving north and that he'll find them in ten minutes.

Ten minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, a dark, unremarkable car pulls up beside them. Van Pelt chokes back a sob when Rigsby's face becomes visible in the passenger-side seat. He opens up the back door for them, and Jane gestures for Van Pelt to climb in first. He looks around the run-down neighborhood once more, taking in the Burger King back in the distance, as he waits for her.

Then he throws himself in after.

* * *

For the third night in a row, Lisbon sits in the passenger side seat of the Airstream and rests her head against the window.

They'd left California behind hours ago and set up somewhere in Nevada for the night. Lisbon is still not exactly sure where they are, but she doesn't much care.

Jane is not with her, and right now that feels like the only important thing.

She'd called Cho early that morning, hoping for some kind of update. But Cho hadn't even been able to tell her what prison Jane and Van Pelt were being held at. Apparently both his and Rigsby's clearance levels had been downgraded after the takedown at the warehouse—clearly the work of whoever the cult had planted in the CBI.

Lisbon had had to take several deep breaths upon hearing this news.

 _How the hell was she supposed to come up with a plan to get Jane and Van Pelt back if she didn't even know where they were?_

She shakes herself and stares out into the Nevada night, knowing she needs to focus on the positives.

Charlotte is with her, and they are safe.

For now.

A loud buzzing sound causes Lisbon to jump slightly, startled, before she realizes that it's the burner phone she'd gotten from Cho.

Puzzled, she turns around to grab it, but Charlotte's already out of bed and reaching for the phone.

"Hello?"

Lisbon stands up in the darkness, barely able to make out Charlotte's face. But she sees Charlotte's eyes go wide, and Lisbon takes a step toward her.

" _Dad!_ "

Katherine is awake at this point, and she sits up on her pull-out couch, rubbing her eyes slightly. Lisbon takes another step toward Charlotte, who starts speaking rapidly.

"What happened? Are you alright? And how is Grace? Where are you? When—"

On the other end of the phone, Jane raises his voice to be heard over his daughter. When Lisbon hears him, she reaches out to steady herself against the side of the Airstream—she can't make out what he says, but it's _him_ , and suddenly she's not sure her legs have the strength to keep her upright.

Charlotte quiets down and begins nodding as she listens to her father, her brow furrowed. She plays with a strand of hair that has fallen out of her bun.

Lisbon watches her intently, relieved to see the tension leave the set of her shoulders. That can only be good news.

"Yeah, of course," says Charlotte suddenly, looking up at Lisbon. "Love you, too, Dad. See you soon."

And she hands the phone to Lisbon.

Lisbon can't keep her heart from going haywire as she accepts the cell.

"Hello?" she nearly croaks.

"Lisbon," comes Jane's voice, and Lisbon feels her entire body shake.

"Jane," she says. "What's going on?"

"I'm fine, and Grace is fine," he says. "Listen—don't say where you are in case this line is bad, but are you guys already on the road?"

"Yeah, we left hours ago."

"I'm familiar with the route the carnival always takes from California—I'm pretty sure I know where you're at for the night. We'll meet you there."

"How did you get out?" Lisbon breathes, leaning against the sink for support as one of her legs buckles beneath her, and she feels herself sway.

Jane gives a wry laugh, and he sounds slightly crazed, like he's been through hell twice over.

It occurs to Lisbon that he has been.

"It's a long story, but I'll be happy to tell you when I see you. If you are where I think you are, we'll be there at dawn."

Lisbon nods, forgetting for a second that he's not right beside her and therefore can't see her. "Thank God," she says, reaching for her cross necklace.

She encounters his ring instead. She grips it tightly.

"I have your ring," she says, feeling it warm beneath her fingers. "That was quick thinking on your part—I'm glad you sent it with Katherine, or I wouldn't have believed her."

 _I almost didn't believe her_ , she doesn't add.

She can almost picture his half-smile as he says, "I figured." He pauses as if he wants to say more but decides against it.

Lisbon breathes out. She hates that she feels so dependent on him, but right now she wants nothing more than for him to just hold her in his arms and never let go.

"I'll see you soon, alright?" Jane says softly. "And Teresa?"

She is silent, scarcely breathing for fear she'll miss what he says next.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." The words come as easily as breathing, and just for a second, it feels like she's living a normal life—calling a lover on the phone to hear his voice, simply because she's gone too long without hearing from him.

Then her fingertips touch Jane's ring again, and she realizes she has no chance of normal.

"Dawn," says Jane quietly, and the promise hangs in the air as she disconnects the call.

* * *

A few rays of light ghost over the barren Nevada landscape as the sun begins to inch into the sky, casting a soft shade of pink over the ground. A car door slams, and Lisbon blinks blearily from her spot in the passenger side seat at the front of the Airstream. Her hand immediately goes toward the gun she has stowed near her left foot.

Then she looks through the windshield, and her breath catches.

Jane is walking towards the Airstream, wearing jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a leather jacket that she's pretty sure Cho has loaned him. Cho himself is at Jane's left side, and Rigsby and Van Pelt lag behind, their heads angled toward each other as they converse.

Jane looks up suddenly and catches Lisbon's eye. A look of intense relief flashes across his features so quickly she's not sure she's really seen it, quickly replaced by an ear-to-ear grin.

She smiles back.

"Charlotte!" says Lisbon loudly, but the teenager must have already been awake because Lisbon hears the door to the Airstream open with a _bang_ as it hits the side of the trailer and bounces back. A few seconds later, Charlotte appears in view, launching herself into her father's arms.

Lisbon moves more tentatively, opening the passenger side door and climbing down slowly. After a night sleeping—or, more accurately, _not_ sleeping—sitting up, she's seriously regretting having neglected to take her pain medication.

But in a few steps, she's within arm's reach of Jane. He looks up from Charlotte, who's still in his arms, and reaches for Lisbon immediately, one arm moving from Charlotte's back to pull her in. Lisbon melts into him willingly, pressing her face into the hollow of his neck.

They stand like that for several minutes, just the three of them, and it occurs to Lisbon that for the first time in as long as she can remember, she has a family again.

Then Charlotte moves away to greet the others, and Jane gathers Lisbon fully into his arms.

His grip is tight but not tight enough.

There are so many things she wants to say to him, but words feel inadequate somehow. Instead, Lisbon wraps her arms around his waist and lets him crush her against his chest. She closes her eyes when he presses a light kiss to her forehead.

Eventually, he pulls back to rove his eyes over her face. By the concerned look he's giving her, she knows he's noticed the redness of her eyes and the bruise-like shadows underneath them.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Lisbon," he says, "but you look like you've had a rough couple days."

But he smiles as he speaks, and Lisbon cannot help but laugh, though it comes out mixed with a sob.

He kisses her temple again and lets her lean against him, recognizing that she's nearly dead on her feet. "Come on," he says. "Let's get you inside."

* * *

Jane leads Lisbon to sit down on the pull-out couch, and the others sit near them at the table as Katherine bustles around the kitchenette, preparing coffee and breakfast.

As Jane explains how he and Van Pelt escaped, Lisbon's eyes grow tired, and she leans her head against his shoulder. Before he realizes it, she is asleep.

Charlotte grabs the blanket from Lisbon's bunk and hands it to Jane, who throws it over Lisbon and himself. He shifts so that he can lay Lisbon out on the couch, her head in his lap.

"She barely slept while you were gone."

Jane glances up at Charlotte, who's now looking at Lisbon with a concerned gaze.

"I know," says Jane, brushing Lisbon's bangs out of her eyes tentatively. "And it looks like she barely ate either. Which is saying something—because she already lost so much weight at the hospital."

He looks down again, and he can't help but reach out to touch Lisbon's hair again.

"We had to remind her to eat," says Charlotte softly. "And even then, she barely did."

Jane smiles at Charlotte. "Thanks for looking out for her," he says, reaching for Charlotte with his other hand, and he pulls her against his side in a one-armed hug. "I'm so glad you're okay," he says quietly. She hugs him back then moves away to help Katherine with breakfast.

When they've finished eating, Katherine turns to Jane. "Patrick, I'm assuming you'll be tagging along on our journey out east?"

"You assume correct." Jane smiles. "When are you planning on getting started for today?"

Katherine glances at Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt. "Well, I guess that depends on how you all are feeling. You'll be following in another car, right? You need a few hours of sleep first?"

Rigsby shakes his head. "Jane drove most of the night while we slept. We're ready to go whenever you are."

"Shotgun!" calls Charlotte from the back of the Airstream, and even Cho smiles at the teenager's eagerness.

* * *

They've been on the interstate for about half an hour when Jane begins to feel the emotional toll of the past few days. He stretches and shifts Lisbon away from him slightly so that he can lie down by her side, then he sets her against him, letting her head come to rest on his arm.

She doesn't stir.

He breathes deeply, feeling a calmness rush through his veins at the sound of Charlotte's voice from the front of the Airstream and the feel of Lisbon's body pressed against his.

He vaguely registers Lisbon's hand searching for his, and the feel of their intertwined fingers is the last thing he remembers before sleep pulls him under.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: So I apologize PROFUSELY for the delay in posting this. But (unfortunately) fanfic doesn't pay the bills. (Wouldn't it be fantastic if it did? All I'd do is write for you guys.) Anyway, midterms are done, so I'm a bit more free to write...and after the angst of the last few chapters, here's a much-needed bit of (mostly) fluff.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Every single time the wind blows_  
 _I see it in your face_

* * *

"You're cheating." Jane's voice is a little incredulous but mostly proud.

"I don't need to cheat," says Charlotte. "Not when you're this bad at playing poker."

Lisbon opens her eyes in time to see Jane's look of astonishment at these words, and she chuckles.

The sound of her laughter catches Jane's attention, and he looks over at her from his spot at the table, where he is in the middle of what looks to be a high-stakes poker game with Charlotte. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Lisbon," he teases.

Lisbon sits up, and the blanket falls from her chest to her hips. "How long was I out?" she asks.

Jane checks his watch as he moves a few Oreo cookies to the center of the table, raising the stakes. "Just over eight hours," he says. "We're nearly ready to stop for the night. I believe we're just outside Salt Lake City."

It finally occurs to Lisbon that the Airstream is moving, and she glances behind her at Katherine, who's currently driving. Katherine looks in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Lisbon. "How are you feeling, dear?"

Lisbon smiles at her. "Much better," she says. "Thank you." She turns around only to find herself face to face with Jane, who's now sitting beside her.

"Please stop getting arrested," she says half-jokingly. "I can't take much more of that."

"Anything for you, Lisbon," he says, and he takes her hand.

It takes her a while for her to figure out why something feels strange, but then she realizes he's not wearing his wedding ring. Her hands immediately go to the clasp of her necklace so she can return the ring to him, but he reaches out and puts his hands over hers, stopping their progress.

"Keep it," he says softly. "It's yours now, alright?"

She's lost for words. "You're…you're sure?"

Jane smiles, his arms still halfway around her. "I'm always sure when it comes to you and me."

She feels a tightness in her chest that has nothing to do with her injury.

"Listen," says Jane, and his hands drop from her neck to run down her arms. He suddenly looks nervous, which baffles Lisbon.

When has Jane ever been nervous?

Jane continues. "What are you doing tonight?"

She stares at him blankly. What kind of a question is that? They're on the run—how the hell would she have plans?

"You two are hopeless," says Charlotte from the kitchen table, where she's eating her way through Jane's Oreo poker "chips". Lisbon glances up at her in time to catch her roll her eyes.

Then it dawns on her. She looks back at Jane.

"Are you…are you asking me out?" Lisbon says, and the words sound foreign to her even as she says them. "Like…on a date?"

Jane shrugs in an attempt at nonchalance, but she sees right through him. "I was under the impression that we were dating. Isn't that what couples do—you know, go on dates?"

"Yeah, _normal_ couples do that, but I hardly thought we qualified." She looks at him and is pulled into his sea-green gaze. It occurs to her that all she's wanted recently is the chance to be normal with him.

She looks away shyly. "I'd love to go on a date with you," she whispers.

"Excellent," says Jane, and he grabs both her hands in his and brings them to his lips.

Behind them, Charlotte rolls her eyes again but can't hide the smile that flashes across her face.

* * *

A few hours later, Jane and Lisbon lay together on an old picnic blanket, staring through the trees as dusk falls over them, the mountains rising in the distance.

Jane, naturally, had vivid memories from his childhood of the RV park they were currently parked at for the night, and he'd been delighted to find that the hiking trails leading from the park had changed very little in the time since he'd last seen them. Aware that Lisbon was still regaining her strength, he'd led them up one of the shorter trails, where'd they eventually encountered a breathtaking view.

Lisbon shivers slightly, and Jane shrugs out of his jacket—once again, borrowed from Cho—and drapes it over her torso. He hovers above her, his weight on his forearms, and she reaches up to brush her fingertips along his jaw.

He notices that they're shaking.

Jane reaches for her hand and brings her fingers to his lips. "You alright?"

Lisbon nearly lies, not wanting him to worry.

"No," she whispers instead.

Jane shifts so that he is laying on his side, and she rolls to face him. He rests his hand softly right over the scar on her torso where the chest tube had been.

The warmth of his hands—the warmth of _him_ —gives her strength to continue. "I, uh...I feel like I can't breathe," she says. At the look of alarm on his face, she hastens to explain. "Not because of my lung. This is different—it's like my body is on some manic high, and I can't for the life of me figure out how to calm it down. Like I'm constantly hyperventilating or something." She glances at him. "I know I'm not. But telling myself that doesn't stop me from feeling like I'm about to crumble into a million pieces." She closes her eyes when she feels them begin to fill with tears. "I can't sleep, I can't eat—it's taking everything I have just to hold it together."

Jane doesn't say anything. He just wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest, and he cradles her head in his hand as her tears drip on his collarbone.

* * *

She pulls away a few minutes later, wiping her eyes and looking at him sheepishly. "I'm so sorry," she says. "Some first date this is."

But he smiles at her anyway. "Meh," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "If you really care that much, we can have a do-over."

"I'd like that. I didn't mean...I didn't mean to—well..." she trails off.

"You're human, Teresa," he says softly. "Sometimes I think you forget that."

She leans her head on his arm, and he grabs her hand.

"What you're feeling," Jane begins, his voice so low she has to strain her ears to hear over the sound of whispering leaves around them. "It sounds like...exactly how I felt when Angela died. When I thought Charlotte had died."

She looks up at him, confused.

"I'm not saying you need help—God knows I didn't want any—but I am saying that help is available. And if you think medication would help, we'll get it for you." He pauses, considering. Then his eyes darken. "It saved my life," he says finally.

She breathes deeply against him, and he smiles at her as he watches her chest expand.

In and out.

What must it have been like for him? To think he'd never see her breathe again?

Jane leans over to press his lips against her chin, and he leaves a trail of soft kisses up the line of her jaw. "To be honest," he murmurs against her, "I'd be worried if you weren't reacting somehow to everything you've been through. You've experienced more trauma in the last week or so than most people experience in a lifetime."

She places her hand on his jaw to direct his lips to her own, kissing him to convey her silent _thank you_ for his understanding and patience.

She pulls back to look at him, and she finds that her fingers have gone to her cross necklace, where his ring now rests against her chest. "I know how much this means to you," she says, changing the subject abruptly. "I promise you, it's safe with me."

He kisses her again. "I knew it would be," he says. Then he gets a strange look in his eye. "Charlotte said you responded well when she dropped a hint about me proposing to you."

Lisbon can't help but smile. "Ah, I see. You're using her to spy on me?"

"She did that all on her own." Jane grins. "She really wants us to be together—she's looking forward to having a family again. I think she saw how Will's parents were with him, and it broke her heart that she didn't get that."

Lisbon frowns at the mention of Will, thinking of Charlotte and her last conversation with him. She wants to tell Jane this information— _his daughter has fallen in love for the first time_ —but she knows that Charlotte had told her this in confidence. So she stays silent, instead tucking an errant curl back into place on Jane's head. "She _did_ get that, Jane," says Lisbon, answering him finally. "Every year you had with her, you made sure she knew how much you loved her. And you're doing that now."

"I hope so." He trails his arm up the curve of her body, from hip to shoulder. When he reaches her neck, she shivers slightly at his touch. Jane's eyes smile at her. "I can't stop myself from thinking what it will be like when this is all over—when we can buy a house and fade into suburban obscurity."

"Picket fence and tulip garden included?" Lisbon asks, smirking.

"Only if I get to be in charge of the garden. I've seen the plants at your place—they look like they died _years_ ago."

Lisbon laughs loudly and without restraint, and Jane's eyes sparkle as he takes in the look she's giving him.

Every emotion he's feeling is suddenly visible on his face—joy, marvel, happiness. But most of all, Lisbon is struck by the softness of his eyes—a look she has come to associate with a Jane that is in love.

"How did I get so lucky?" he says, gazing at her in wonder, and she knows he's directed this question at the universe rather than at her.

 _He isn't the only lucky one_ , Lisbon thinks as he leans over to kiss her again, his smile evident against her lips.

She wonders every day how the tortuous complexity of the universe led him into her arms.

* * *

 **AN2:** **I normally don't respond to guest reviews, but there was one from last chapter that I really would like to address.**

The reviewer pointed out two things: first, that I portrayed Jane as a "superman" character because he had gone without sleep for three nights in a row, and, second, that I portrayed Lisbon as weak.

I completely agree with the first point. In the original version of the chapter before this one, I did not realize that Jane had not slept for three nights in a row. I don't write my chapters all in one sitting, and I'd forgotten the details of Jane's stay in jail when I wrote the reunion sequence. Additionally, I do not have a beta reader, so that detail snuck by me. I've since modified my wording to make these parts of the story more realistic.

As to the second point the guest reviewer made, I respectfully disagree.

I very deliberately chose to have Lisbon struggle with eating and with sleeping. If it is not clear yet, Lisbon is beginning to struggle with PTSD and anxiety – and after the events of "Til Our Souls Catch Us Up", this should not come as a surprise. Lisbon has survived an explosion, psychological and physical torture, and a procedure to re-inflate a collapsed lung. In addition, the person who Lisbon loves most in the world was taken from her. All of these things _on their own_ would have been adequate reason for her mental wellbeing to suffer. It would be unrealistic for Lisbon to be completely impervious to these things, to have her act like everything is fine.

Lisbon is not weak because she has PTSD and anxiety in this story.

No one who has a mental illness is weak.

Along these lines, even if Lisbon had acted "weak", I don't see why that should be a problem. No one is strong 100% of the time, and Lisbon should not be held to implausibly high standards. Those of you who have read my other stories know that I make it a point to write Lisbon every bit an equal to Jane in terms of strength of character. In fact, most of the time I portray Lisbon as the _strongest_ character in the story. But in _this_ story, Lisbon is allowed to be anxious for Jane, and to worry about his wellbeing while he is in jail. Today's society expects "strong" women to never show emotion, and "strong" women are expected to not be dependent on another person for their happiness. This is – for lack of a better word – bullshit.

I apologize to the guest reviewer if this response came across as vitriolic. That was not my intention. Rather, I just wanted to share my two cents in what I believe is an imperative conversation – as well as leave my readers with food for thought.

After all, isn't that what stories are supposed to do?

Thank you, dear reader, if you have stuck around to read this. I truly appreciate it.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thanks for sticking with this story! I know updates have been rather sporadic and probably will continue to be, so I apologize for that. At any rate, I hope you like this installment. As per my usual multichapter stories, there are probably about three chapters left and then the epilogue.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _In a cold light  
There will be no fair fight_

* * *

 _Two weeks later_

The carnival spends the next two weeks moving east, stopping often to set up for performances. Between the seven people sharing Katherine's Airstream, privacy—and space—is almost nonexistent, and everyone but Lisbon and Katherine rotate sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags. Eventually, they cross the Mississippi River to arrive in Wisconsin, and after the sweltering heat of summer in California, Jane welcomes the relatively mild temperatures of the Midwest.

Jane had tracked down Sam and Pete during one of the first stops on the road, his voice cracking when he introduced them to Charlotte. Sam had looked about ready to cry as she took in a grown-up Charlotte for the first time; Pete had unabashedly done so. Both had engulfed her in a large hug, exclaiming how uncanny her resemblance was to her mother.

After that, the story of the tagalong group had spread through the carnival like wildfire, and at every stop, they found themselves bombarded by visitors hoping to see for themselves if the stories were true. Though Jane enjoys catching up with the people he'd grown up with, these visits are also emotionally draining for him. In the past several years, Jane had mentioned his wife only a handful of times; now he speaks about her nearly constantly as he receives long-belated condolences for her passing.

However, these conversations at least accomplish one thing: Jane now knows with certainty that these people will keep secret the presence of Katherine's stowaways. He reads the body language and the microexpressions on every person who comes to speak with them, and all seem genuinely happy to see that he'd pulled himself together—and that he'd found Charlotte. And indeed, the sense of community within the carnival is just as strong—if not stronger—than it had been when he was young. Though he'd been afraid of being dismissed as a mark after all these years, carnie blood proves to be stronger than he'd thought.

After a short day of driving, the carnival stops somewhere past La Crosse at the county fairgrounds. Cho offers to teach Charlotte some basic self-defense, and they head toward the edge of the fairgrounds away from the carnival trailers. Van Pelt and Rigsby follow them.

Carnival workers bustle all around, beginning to set up for the event, and Jane watches as Lisbon steps down from the Airstream and looks around as she comes to stand next to him. She takes in the picturesque rolling hills of farmland in the distance, peppered with red barns and silos, and she smiles.

Jane can't help the goofy grin that crosses his face. "I always pegged you as more of a city girl, Lisbon," he says.

She glances over at him out of the corner of her eye, smirking. "Don't get me wrong," she says. "I love the city. But when I think of the Midwest, I immediately imagine rows and rows of corn." She looks out over the fields in the distance. "I'd forgotten how breathtaking it could be."

"You rethinking that picket fence?"

She bumps her shoulder against his companionably. "There's not a lot of crime out here in the boondocks, Jane. You'd be bored."

"Meh," he says, shrugging. "We'd find other things to do."

His voice is low so that Katherine, who is still inside the Airstream, cannot hear them, and Lisbon slaps him lightly in response to his suggestive tone. Jane watches her carefully, glad to note she is moving more freely—her body has healed a lot over the past two weeks.

Her mind, he knows, still has a lot more healing to do.

But she is making progress, and that is all that matters.

Jane takes her hand and leads her away from the trailers, and they begin to walk around the perimeter of the fairgrounds. On the other side of the camp, Charlotte, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt have paired off, and Jane watches them for a few seconds as Cho demonstrates a maneuver which Charlotte tries to emulate.

Then he looks over at Lisbon, his eyes squinting in response to the bright sunlight. "How are you feeling?"

She nods, meeting his eyes. "Good," she says honestly. "I switched from the heavy pain medication to regular ibuprofen and the pain isn't overwhelming, so that's certainly a plus."

"That it is," he agrees. He squeezes her hand. "But how are you feeling?" he asks again, placing more emphasis on the last word.

She looks away this time, and he doesn't push. "It's a process," she finally whispers.

He leans over to kiss the side of her head.

"I'm here if you want to talk. But you know that."

He's surprised when she begins to speak readily, her hand going to play with his ring on her necklace. "I told you before that the last thing I want to do is try to replace Angela. In fact," she says, and she stops walking suddenly. "I'd prefer that she stay with you forever."

Jane turns to face her and waits for her to continue.

Lisbon sighs. "But even though _I_ don't think of myself as a replacement, I get the feeling that some of the people here think I am. And I get it. Really, I do. Angela was one of them; I'm an outsider. Clearly if they could choose between the two of us, they'd choose her. They don't want a replacement—they want the original." Lisbon takes a shaky breath and looks up at him, her eyes scared and sad. "I've seen a lot of people looking at my necklace," she says. "They noticed right away I'm wearing the wedding band Angela gave to you. And I'm getting this feeling—accurate or not, I don't know—that everyone thinks you've broken your vows to her by giving me your ring." She looks down, avoiding his eyes. "It feels like everyone thinks you broke your vows _because_ of me."

Jane immediately lifts her chin with two fingers to bring her eyes up to meet his. "As difficult as this has been for me to accept, I truly believe now that Angela would say my vows were nullified the moment she died. If she could be here, she'd assure the both of us that I didn't break my vows." It's the first time he's said something of this nature out loud, and he realizes his fingers are trembling slightly underneath Lisbon's chin. "She would want me to be happy—and I know that because I would have wanted the same for her had our situations been reversed." His hand drops to Lisbon's side, and he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers. "I'm not going to tell you to stop feeling guilty—that would just trivialize your feelings, and God knows I struggle with my own guilt every day. But what I will say is this: guilt is a poor foundation upon which to build a life."

"I know," she says softly. "And I know _you_ know that, too. But it's easier said than done, isn't it?"

She looks as though she might cry, so Jane quickly pulls her against his chest so she can hide her tears if she chooses.

One of his hands comes up to stroke her hair. "I think it's something we'll always struggle with, yes," he admits. "And as for the attention you're getting from everyone here," he adds, his lips moving against the top of her head. "Since I'm not the one in your shoes, I know it's not fair for me to tell you to simply ignore what everyone else thinks. But…" He trails off, searching carefully for his words. "What matters most is what _we_ think. And _I_ think I am completely and ridiculously in love with you."

She reaches up to swipe at the tears on her cheek. But then she turns in his arms slightly, and he feels her lips on his collarbone.

Her arms wind around him, and he feels her nod against his chest.

"Okay."

* * *

By sunset, the carnival is nearly set up for the show the next day, and after supper Rigsby is put in charge of making a campfire. As he works, the rest of the party rounds up chairs and blankets to sit on, and they gather around the fire. Lisbon sits down in her chair, looking out over the corn fields in the distance that have been tinged golden-orange by the sunset.

She glances at Katherine, who's sitting next to her.

"You taught Patrick how to read people, didn't you?" she asks. Though Jane is sitting across the fire and currently in conversation with Charlotte, his eyes flash to them upon hearing his name. He looks away quickly, but Lisbon knows he is listening.

Katherine nods, pulling her shawl more tightly around herself. Rigsby succeeds in lighting the fire, and a faint wisp of smoke floats up. "From the time he was a little boy, Patrick was always interested in what I do," Katherine says.

Lisbon knows Katherine is speaking of tarot cards. In the first few days of their journey, Lisbon had asked Jane about Katherine's contribution to the carnival. He'd told her that Katherine read fortunes—and that she was very, very good at it. Not because she could actually see the future, of course. Rather, Katherine's ability to understand a person's innermost thoughts and desires was uncanny. Lisbon had watched her do so once when the carnival was set up outside Sioux Falls.

By Jane's own admission, Katherine's abilities were far superior to his own. And after watching her, Lisbon agrees with him.

Katherine continues speaking, her voice low. "I was always pleased at how talented he became. I was _less_ pleased in his desire to use his talents in the way that he did. For me, tarot cards have always been about guiding people in the direction they want to go but aren't yet confident enough to realize for themselves. I think Patrick lost sight of that for a while." She smiles at Lisbon. "But with you, I think he's figured out what I was trying to teach him all along."

One of the logs cracks, spewing embers into the air, and Lisbon watches as Jane tries to hide the sad smile that flashes across his face.

* * *

Lisbon sleeps longer that night than she's managed for a while. However, she still wakes at dawn, and despite feeling exhausted, she cannot get back to sleep.

She rolls over to face Jane, who's sleeping beside her on the fold-out couch. Though his hair is a mess and he hasn't shaved for several days, she smiles as she looks over him. There's a faint scar just below his ear that she has never noticed before, and it occurs to her—how much does she not yet know about the man next to her?

Probably too much, she realizes.

It's an occupational hazard of being in a relationship with a professional cheat.

Another part of her reminds her that despite this, she is the person who knows him best in the world. Surely that must be worth something. She presses her lips to his softly, not able to resist. He doesn't stir besides to smile softly in his sleep, and Lisbon grins.

Yes, definitely worth something.

She slides out from underneath the blanket, intending to move to the front of the Airstream, and she steps over Rigsby, who's currently asleep on the ground. She sits down in the passenger seat and watches the sun rise, its light reflecting off a silver silo in the distance.

The light hits the front of the Airstream, and Lisbon realizes suddenly that a piece of paper has been tucked underneath one of the windshield wipers. Curious, she opens the door and leans over to retrieve it.

Her heart is loud and erratic as she realizes what she is looking at.

A photograph of a bedroom, Red John's mark painted above the bed.

She ducks inside the Airstream, shutting the door behind her with more force than necessary. This wakes Jane, who opens his eyes blearily, and Lisbon steps over to the couch with the photograph in hand.

"Lisbon?" asks Jane, sounding half-asleep. He takes in her face. "What's wrong?"

She sits down on the couch and hands him the photograph as he sits up.

When he sees the mark, he reaches for her instinctively.

"There's no body," he notes softly, and, indeed, the bed in the photograph is empty. "Why would he draw his mark without a body?"

There's a beat of silence.

"Oh my god," comes a soft voice behind them.

They turn to find Charlotte looking over Lisbon's shoulder. Jane's daughter blinks rapidly.

"That's…that's Will's bedroom," she whispers. Her bright green eyes are frightened and frantic, and suddenly Lisbon pictures the exact same look on Jane's face upon discovering the bodies of his wife and daughter.

Charlotte takes a deep breath. " _Will_ ," she says, and her tone is almost pleading, like she's begging fate to rewind time.

Lisbon's heart shatters.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks everyone for the great response to the last chapter. I hope this one makes up for the cliff-hanger (though you all should know by now that we're in the middle of cliff-hanger territory now, so you should probably expect the same for the next couple chapters)!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _There will be no good night  
To turn and walk away_

* * *

"How did he find us?" asks Charlotte.

Despite the early hour, no one in the Airstream looks tired. Rather, they are all alert, a fresh dose of adrenaline pumping through their veins. Lisbon and Charlotte sit together on the couch, and Katherine joins them. Jane cannot stop moving; he runs a hand over his face and through his hair in agitation before looking over at the rest of the team, who are seated at the kitchen table.

He looks back at Charlotte.

"It wouldn't have been difficult to track the carnival," Jane admits. "Not once he knew that's where we were."

"But how did he know?" asks Van Pelt.

"Maybe we were followed," Rigsby suggests. "Someone could have seen us drop Lisbon and Charlotte off—or we could have been tracked once Jane and Grace broke out of jail."

Cho glances from Lisbon to Jane. "You think he wanted you to break out of jail? So he could watch where you went?"

Van Pelt's eyes narrow. "He knew Jane would head straight for Charlotte and Lisbon. And that also explains why we got out so easily—I kept thinking it was too good to be true."

Jane leans against the wall of the Airstream. "But why lock us up in the first place, then?" he asks.

Lisbon finally speaks up. "Because he can," she says simply. "He just wanted to show us that he's in control of our lives now."

"Message received," says Jane darkly. "Twice over," he adds, glancing at the photograph that now lies on the kitchen table.

"Whoever left that picture was an outsider," says Katherine, and Jane nods in agreement. "Not someone from the carnival. I've known these people my entire life; I work and talk with them every day. I would have read it on one of them if they'd been involved in something like this."

"Can you ask around?" asks Jane. "If anything strange was going on late last night, one of the carnies would have noticed."

Katherine nods. "Of course."

"But what are we going to _do_?" asks Charlotte, her voice breaking on the last word. "You all saw the picture—this is Will we're talking about." She blinks several times but doesn't let any tears fall. Jane's eyes flash to his daughter.

He steps over to her and kneels down beside her at the end of the couch. "I know this is going to sound bad, Charlotte, but bear with me," he says. "Red John would want us to know if Will was dead. Since we haven't been told that yet, that means he's still alive. But before we make any decisions regarding how we're going to find him, we need more information." He looks over at Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt. "Red John already knows where we are, so we might as well abandon the burner phones. We've been off the grid for a while now—we should get back in the loop."

Cho stands up to dig through one of the overhead compartments for his bag. He pulls out a computer and passes it to Van Pelt, whose eyes light up. "Cho, has anyone ever told you how brilliant you are?" she says, smiling.

"Yes," says Cho, deadpan, but Lisbon sees him smile.

Jane turns back to Charlotte, and he reaches up to brush the moisture away from her eyes. "We'll get him back. I promise we'll do everything we can to get him back."

Van Pelt plugs her computer in to charge it, and Katherine reaches for her jacket. "I'm going to talk with Sam and Pete," she says. "Maybe they saw something—or know someone who did."

"Take Rigsby with you," says Jane. "We don't know if whoever left that note decided to hang around."

Rigsby grabs his gun and follows an anxious-looking Katherine out the door.

Jane finally meets Lisbon's gaze, and she sees his daughter's heartbreak reflected in his eyes. "You sit here, okay?" Lisbon says to him. "I'm going to make a call."

They shift, exchanging places, and Lisbon moves to the back of the Airstream, turning on her phone and hitting a familiar number on her speed-dial.

Minelli answers on the first ring. "My God, Lisbon, why the hell haven't you had your phone on?"

Lisbon takes a deep breath. "How much do you know about what's happened with the team in the past few weeks?" she says in lieu of greeting.

She hears Minelli sigh on the other end of the line. "I was worried the CBI grapevine was becoming unreliable—the stories sounded so outrageous. So it's true, then? Jane got his daughter back?"

Lisbon turns around, her eyes landing on two heads of blonde hair at the front of the Airstream. "Yeah," she says softly. "She's here with us right now."

"Lisbon, what happened?" If Lisbon didn't know any better, she'd say her old boss sounded terrified.

She fills him in quickly, telling him about the abduction, her ER visit, Jane and Van Pelt's time in prison, and the team's decision to go on the run. "Virgil," she finally says. "We've been out of contact with anyone in law enforcement for two weeks. What's going on?"

"They've put BOLOs out on all of you—presumably for helping Jane and Van Pelt escape, but also because they claim they're worried that harm will come to Charlotte. But also…" he trails off, and Lisbon holds her breath as he continues. "Lisbon, there's been a string of Red John murders all of the sudden moving from California toward the Midwest. It's like he's taking a macabre cross-country road trip."

Lisbon almost drops the phone. "What cities?" she whispers.

"Salt Lake City, Rock Springs, Rapid City, Sioux Falls, Rochester—and they found one early this morning in La Crosse, Wisconsin. I'd just heard about it when you called me. Lisbon, this isn't just a California matter anymore—the FBI took over the case after the body in Salt Lake city was found."

"Do you know who's in charge?"

"I heard it from an old buddy of mine, who said the agent's name was Janine something. Thought her last name might have been Russell. She's supposed to be good, Lisbon—she's up for a promotion to Assistant Director in the next few months. She's in her late fifties now, I think, so she has experience, and...I was told she was a lot like you."

"Hopefully she'll have more luck than I did," Lisbon murmurs. "Listen, Virgil—thank you. I'll try to keep in touch, but…"

"I understand. Stay safe, Lisbon. And protect that girl. I don't want Jane to have to go through losing her again."

"I will."

She disconnects and heads back to the table, sitting down beside Van Pelt. Cho sits across from them, already engaged in conversation on his phone.

"We need information on six murders," Lisbon says, listing off the names of the cities where Red John's mark had been found. "Obviously the CBI no longer has the case—it's the FBI's now."

Van Pelt nods. "It'll take me a while before I'll know if I can get into the system. Especially considering we're dealing with the FBI."

"Hold on," says Cho into his phone. He holds the phone away from his ear and turns to Lisbon. "Kristina Frye is dead. A nurse walked into her room in the ICU a few days after you'd been released and couldn't get a pulse."

"Any leads?"

Cho shakes his head. "They're still looking into it. But my friend at the FBI says word is there that those new cases are all teenagers. Fifteen year olds."

"Charlotte's age—and Will's age, too, right?"

Cho nods.

"Anything on Will?"

"An AMBER Alert was put out on him the day after Jane and Van Pelt broke out of prison. You want me to call his parents?"

Lisbon puts her head in her hands and leans her elbows on the table. "Since this is Red John, there won't be any loose ends, so it's not likely we'll get anything useful out of them. But I'll call them—Charlotte will want to speak to them anyway."

Charlotte looks up at the sound of her name. "Teresa?" she asks. "Did you find anything?"

Cho begins speaking into his cell phone again.

Lisbon stands up and heads over to the couch, where Jane moves over slightly to allow Lisbon to sit between him and Charlotte. Lisbon looks at Jane, silently asking if it's alright for Charlotte to hear the new information. Jane gives a slight nod.

Lisbon breathes out deeply. "Five teenagers have been killed by Red John since we left California, all in cities we've stopped at for performances. News just broke a little while ago about another killing in La Crosse. From what we know about Red John, he's high up somewhere, meaning it's unlikely he could just disappear to take a trip across the country without his absence being noticed, so I'm betting he's had someone else..." Lisbon struggles with her choice of words, wanting to be careful with how she describes this to Charlotte. "I think he had someone else kill those six people for him. And we haven't heard anything to suggest that Will is not alive. That's good news, I promise you."

Charlotte looks up at her. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to call Will's parents, and then I'll see what I can find on an FBI agent named Janine Russell. My old boss says she's in charge of the case."

Lisbon concentrates on Jane's steady warmth beside her. She steels herself.

Suddenly, Charlotte's eyes narrow.

"Russell?" she says, her gaze losing focus slightly.

Jane and Lisbon simultaneously look toward Charlotte.

"I must have only been like seven years old," says Charlotte, "but I definitely remember meeting an FBI agent named Russell. She was a friend of my adoptive parents."

Jane tenses at hearing Jay and Adelaine Fairfax described this way, but he doesn't speak.

Charlotte continues. "I remember meeting her because I couldn't pronounce her first name. But it wasn't Janine—it was J-E-A-N-N-E. You know, like the French would pronounce it: Zhawn."

Lisbon looks over at Jane. "'Jeanne' can sometimes be pronounced 'Janine'—maybe Minelli or his friend got it wrong. Jane, this can't be a coincidence."

But Jane doesn't look curious or puzzled like she'd expected him to. Rather, he's smiling, but just barely, and the intensity of the darkness in his eyes worries her.

"Jane?"

"We've got him, Lisbon," he says, and his smile grows slightly wider.

"What?"

"Actually, we've got _her._ "

Lisbon stares blankly at him. A second later, something falls into place.

Jeanne Russell.

Jeanne.

John.

 _A misdirect so simple it's brilliant_ , Lisbon thinks. Years of using stand-ins, presumably hand-picked from the cult, had only added to the illusion, which had been perpetuated by psychological profile stereotyping.

Lisbon meets Jane's eyes, stunned.

"Red John is a woman."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks for your continued interest in this story! This chapter covers a lot of ground (literally and figuratively), so let's get to it without further ado.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _So burn me with fire,  
Drown me with rain  
I'm gonna wake up  
Screaming your name_

* * *

Lisbon turns immediately to Van Pelt. "Don't bother looking up those cases—get everything you can on FBI Agent Jeanne Russell."

Both Cho and Van Pelt had been listening as Jane made the connection; both attempt to hide similar looks of shock.

Cho ends his call as Van Pelt pulls up Russell's file. Lisbon and Jane stand up, in sync, and move toward the table. Van Pelt turns her computer so the others can see it.

"Fifty-eight, born in Rockford, Illinois," says Van Pelt. "Got a full ride to California State University, Long Beach, where she majored in Criminal Justice. She was recruited by the FBI straight out of college and was assigned to the Sacramento field office—she's been there ever since."

Jane leans over to get a better look at the file. "Can you find anything on her personal life? Family, friends—that kind of thing?"

Van Pelt pulls the computer back toward her and begins typing quickly. Her eyes dart across the screen. "Her father died suddenly when she was a freshman in college—according to witnesses, he was hit walking across the street at night by a dark car, but whoever did it drove off, and they were never caught. Witnesses didn't get the make or model or the license plate." Van Pelt pauses for a beat. "Her mother committed suicide a week after."

Lisbon leans back against the wall of the Airstream as she takes in these words. She closes her eyes, but she can still feel Jane's gaze upon her.

She knows exactly what he's thinking.

Jeanne Russell has essentially the same background that Lisbon herself does: parent killed in a car accident that could have been preventable, other parent goes off the rails with grief, daughter moves across the country to throw herself into a profession to make sure these types of tragedies don't happen to anyone else.

Lisbon breathes in deeply, reminding herself that their paths diverged. She is _not_ Russell, despite whatever similarities they may share.

She tries to hold onto these differences, and she opens her eyes.

Jane is staring at her, his eyes worried and sad, and she looks over at Van Pelt.

"What do we know about her career?"

Van Pelt types in a few keywords. "She's basically a superstar," Van Pelt says. "She broke a major cold case within her first year at Sacramento and was immediately promoted. She got her own team not long after. Her closure rate is even above ours," she adds, sounding impressed.

Lisbon shakes her head. "That makes absolutely no sense. Why work so hard for justice for those victims if she's just leaving behind more victims herself? How can she justify that?"

Jane speaks up. "Easily," he says. "If this woman has a grandiose sense of morality—if she thinks her morals are above reproach—it would be easy to convince herself that bending the rules occasionally is for the greater good."

He gives Lisbon a loaded look, and she is reminded that she herself had done the exact same thing all those years ago, when she'd been working with Bosco.

Jane continues. "But things must have gotten out of hand," he says. "The people she's killed—somehow they got in the way of her goals, her quest for justice. Maybe someone discovered evidence that she'd been sidestepping the system to ensure criminals got put behind bars. My guess is she had to kill them in order to hide evidence of her wrongdoing. But easily justified if she thinks she has to do whatever she needs to in order to remain in law enforcement. After all, what are a dozen or so victims worth when you've saved hundreds and will save even more in the future?"

"Like Linus Wagner," says Cho, referring to a case they'd worked a few years ago.

"Exactly," says Jane.

Lisbon turns to him. "You realize what that means?" she says, and he stares at her blankly. "Your wife wasn't killed because you talked about Red John on TV. Red John killed your wife and convinced you that she'd killed your daughter because you were a threat. She wanted to break you—to ensure that you wouldn't be able to stop her."

Cho has to smile at this. "The irony there is exquisite," he mutters. "She created the very thing she most feared—someone who could stop her."

"A _team_ who could stop her," corrects Jane, looking at Lisbon, and then over at Van Pelt. "I'm assuming you won't be able to find anything on her that connects her to the fringe cult that broke off of Visualize—she's too smart for that."

"I'll look," says Van Pelt, "but I think you'll be right."

Lisbon grabs Jane's upper arm, struck by an idea. "What was the last thing you remember telling the police before you went on that television show?"

He looks back at her, confused.

"Jane, if you were a threat to Red John in your psychic days—if she acted out in order to get you off the case—that means you got too close. You were onto something. She didn't want you to follow that lead."

Jane stares off into space, clearly searching for old files he has stored in his memory palace. Charlotte sends Lisbon a confused look and stands up from the couch, moving to stand by her father.

"I did a cold reading of Red John for them," he says finally. "They gave me the files, and I looked over the cases. I tried to tell them anything I noticed that might give them insight into who was behind it all." He speaks faster, looking slightly pale. "With some of the early murders, the victims were found in locations that differed from where they'd been killed. I told the police that this suggested the killer was still a novice—they weren't yet comfortable killing in unfamiliar environments. I thought it meant that the victims were killed someplace where the killer felt at ease—someplace where the killer was in control, where they wouldn't be rushed for time. Someplace secluded. Only later did the killer move out of their comfort zone." Jane looks at Lisbon. "I'm not sure if they followed up on that at all. I wasn't in much of a state to check in on them that year," he admits. "In fact, this is the first time I've thought about that insight in over a decade." He lowers his voice so only Lisbon can hear. "The medication they gave me was...strong."

He's clearly uncomfortable, and she squeezes his hand, hoping to give him some strength.

At that moment, all five of them suddenly become aware that the carnival is bustling despite the early hour. Rigsby enters the Airstream and says, "Whoever left that note is long gone," he says. "Pete and I searched every nook and cranny of this place—nothing. But now everyone knows to be on the lookout. I doubt anyone will be able to sneak onto the fairgrounds unnoticed again."

Lisbon nods absentmindedly and proceeds to tell Rigsby what they've discovered about Red John. As she'd expected, his jaw nearly drops to the floor.

"A woman?" he says, clearly flabbergasted. "All this time…we were looking for a woman?"

Cho informs Rigsby of Jane's cold read of Red John, and Lisbon turns to Van Pelt. "Russell would need a place to hide Will," she says. "What if she decided to return to what was familiar to her—the place where she'd killed some of her first victims?"

Out of the corner of her vision, Lisbon sees Jane wrap an arm around Charlotte's shoulder, and Charlotte wipes at the moisture in her eyes.

"'Someplace secluded'," quotes Van Pelt pensively. Her eyes widen. "You think she has a place out of town somewhere? A cabin, maybe?" But before Lisbon can even respond, Van Pelt is typing away, pulling up various pages. "She bought a vacation home near Lake Tahoe more than two decades ago," she whispers.

They are silent for a few seconds before Rigsby speaks. "It'll take more than a day of driving to get there," he says. "So we better get moving, right?"

"Right," says Lisbon. "I want to get out of here soon anyway; someone will have noticed that I called Minelli and that Cho made a call as well."

At that moment, Katherine opens the door, her gray hair falling out of its bun at the nape of her neck.

"You're leaving," she gathers immediately.

Lisbon nods. "The FBI will know we're here by now," she says grimly. "But it was a necessary sacrifice, unfortunately. I'm sorry that it might make things difficult for everyone here—at the very least, you'll have to answer some questions from law enforcement."

Katherine smiles at her darkly. "Dear, that won't be a problem."

Lisbon is reminded of the time she tried to interview members of the carnival. She'd gotten nothing. Out of anyone.

"They might try to arrest you for harboring criminals."

"Please," Katherine says, as though she'd thought this through hours ago. "I'll tell them you held a gun to my head and forced me to take you along. The others will corroborate any story I tell them to stick to." She walks forward to wrap her arms around Lisbon. "Trust me, dear, we can look out for ourselves."

Lisbon doesn't doubt this for a second.

Cho reaches into his pocket to grab the keys to the car the team had taken to meet up with the carnival. He stands up. "I'll take first shift," he says.

Lisbon sends him a look. "Where'd you get the car anyway?" she asks.

Cho shrugs. "Jane set up five of them for us in various locations around Sacramento in case we needed them. We used some when we got you and Charlotte out of the city."

Lisbon doesn't bother pursuing the subject. If Jane was involved, the cars were probably obtained in a slightly illegal manner.

Or a very illegal one.

She shakes her head.

"Let's go."

* * *

"You don't have to go with them, you know. If you don't feel like you can handle it."

Jane is driving, Lisbon in the passenger seat. It's past midnight, meaning they've been on the road for just over seventeen hours. Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt, and Charlotte are passed out in the seats behind them.

Lisbon doesn't know what state they're in. They all look the same in the dark anyway.

A few hours ago, they'd made plans for their operation. Jane will drop off Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt a mile or so from Russell's Lake Tahoe vacation home. Then he will take Charlotte and flee until he is contacted on a burner phone.

Lisbon had felt obligated to speak up while they discussed their plan. "I'm not sure I can do this," she had said, the admission eating away at her. "The past couple times I've tried to clean my weapon, my hands shook the whole time. What if I endanger the team—if I freeze up or something?"

Cho had given her a steely look. "You won't," he'd said. "And even if you do, we'll have your back."

Van Pelt had touched Lisbon's shoulder briefly. "We're with you whatever you decide, Boss. But even if you're only feeling like fifty percent of yourself, you'll still be better than every other cop out there."

Lisbon had nodded, resolved.

Now, she looks over at Jane.

"I know," she says, feeling her anxiety spike again. Then Jane takes her hand, and she can breathe again. "I know."

"I love you," he says, glancing at her, emotion making his voice rough.

"I know that, too," she says, attempting to lighten the mood, and he chuckles.

He brings her hand to his lips, staring at the dark road ahead of them.

"I love you," she whispers, and the slight tremble of his fingers tells her that he's heard her.

* * *

It's nearly dusk.

Cho leads Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Lisbon through the California forest, using a handheld GPS as their guide. All four have their guns drawn. Lisbon can't remember ever seeing her team look so alert.

She allows herself one moment to think of Jane's lips on hers before they'd parted ways. She prays it will not be the last time she tastes him.

Eventually, just as the sun finally sinks below the horizon, they catch their first glimpse of the vacation home through the trees. It's smaller than Lisbon expected—it looks more like a cabin than a home, with the wooden log siding and the lake in the distance completing an idyllic image. The group sticks to the trees for as long as they can, eventually darting out to head for the front door.

Cho reaches for it first, the others covering him. To their surprise, it swings inward, and Cho looks at Lisbon, an eyebrow raised.

 _Red John's arrogance—or a trap?_

They'll find out in a few seconds.

They move together, so attuned to each other that their movements unconsciously sync. A large room, serving as both a kitchen and living area, immediately greets them. Lisbon is almost taken aback by the normalcy of the room—it looks like a typical cabin, with wilderness-themed rugs and paintings and a lamp in the shape of a black bear. Rigsby and Van Pelt head down a hallway off to their right, and Cho and Lisbon climb the stairs to the loft that overlooks the living room.

Lisbon's heart nearly stops when she sees Will lying on a bed, his arm handcuffed to the frame.

Will's eyes are wild as he takes them in, but he calms slightly when Lisbon lowers her weapon. Cho watches the stairs, keeping an eye on the entrance to the cabin.

"Clear!" comes Van Pelt's voice from downstairs. Lisbon holsters her gun.

"We've got him," says Lisbon, and she moves to Will's side, reaching for her handcuff key. When his arm is free, he cradles it against him, and Lisbon notices the irritated skin on his wrist from the metal of the cuffs. "The woman who took you," says Lisbon. "Where is she?"

Will is breathing heavily, and his eyes move to Rigsby and Van Pelt as they clear the stairs.

"I don't know," he says, his brown eyes still wild. "Two men stop by twice a day to check on me, but I don't know where they go in the meantime."

"What do they look like?"

"One is tall, strong build, like him over there." Will gestures to Rigsby. "Dark hair and eyes. The other is shorter, with bleach blond hair. He's slimmer. And there was a woman."

"She was the one who took you?"

"There were several involved, but yeah, she was one of them. She was tall, thin. Her hair looked like it had been dark once, but it's graying now."

"Fits the description of Russell that I came across yesterday," says Van Pelt quietly.

This registers vaguely with Lisbon, who's more concerned with the fact that Russell doesn't seem to care that Will has seen her or her acolytes. Dread seeps into Lisbon's bones as she realizes the implications of this.

Russell never planned to let Will live.

Lisbon reaches for Will tentatively, touching his shoulder. "When do the men normally come back?"

"After dark. Every night just after dark. And every morning after sunrise. They weren't supposed to leave me alone, but they didn't listen to the woman's orders."

Lisbon glances worriedly out the window. The darkness of early evening has clearly set in. She looks at the others. "I don't want to risk them showing up just as we leave," she says, and she feels her hands begin to shake. She tucks them against her side, forcing them to still.

 _Not now_ , she tells herself, breathing deeply. She pretends Jane is there beside her, telling her about one of his breathing exercises, and she feels her anxiety slip away.

"I agree," says Cho.

Rigsby looks from Cho to Lisbon. "What if we ambush them?" he says. "We'll wait for them here, in the loft, where we have the higher ground."

Van Pelt smiles. "We can take them in," she says. "We'll have witnesses who might be useful in dismantling the cult."

Lisbon turns to Will. "I want you to stay as far away from the stairs as you can," she tells him. "Get out of sight of the front door." She guides him to the corner of the room, away from the stairs leading down from the loft, and motions for him to crouch down.

She draws her weapon and joins the others, who are lingering near the railing of the loft. They nod at each other.

They don't have to wait long.

Seven minutes later, they hear the sound of tires on gravel, and Lisbon pictures a vehicle pulling up the driveway. The sound of the engine dies off suddenly, and then two doors slam.

Lisbon and the others move back slightly so that they can't immediately be seen from the doorway.

Lisbon holds her breath, and the door swings open.

Two men enter, both fitting Will's description, both with guns in their hands. One laughs crudely at something the other says.

As soon as the larger man locks the door behind them, Lisbon and the team move forward.

"Drop your weapons!" yells Cho.

"Drop them, now! Hands on your head!" says Lisbon at the same time.

Lisbon watches as identical looks of pure dread cross both men's faces. They don't respond to Lisbon and Cho's words.

Instead, they turn toward each other and fire.

Lisbon recoils, shocked, but Rigsby rushes down the stairs, followed by Cho and Van Pelt. Lisbon watches as Rigsby nudges the two firearms away slightly with his foot. Cho kneels down beside one man, checking to see if he's breathing. "Dead," he declares, gesturing to the entry wound that appears to have obliterated the man's heart.

"This one's gone as well," whispers Van Pelt, a bit unnecessarily, seeing as the man's face is completely unrecognizable.

Lisbon holsters her weapon and grabs the burner phone from her pocket.

Jane picks up immediately. " _Lisbon?_ " he asks, his voice tight.

"We're alright," she says, looking over at Will. "We're all fine. Tell Charlotte that Will's fine."

"What happened?" he says, picking up on the shakiness in her voice.

"Will was alone when we arrived, but two men came back before we could get him out safely. When we announced our presence, they shot themselves. I don't think they wanted to be questioned _—_ maybe Russell had something worse planned for them if they were ever caught."

Jane swears loudly. Lisbon lets out a breath.

"Pick us up?" she asks weakly.

"Already on my way," he responds.

* * *

When they hear the sound of tires on gravel again, Lisbon looks out the window, recognizing the familiar dark car that pulls up. Charlotte leaps out of the vehicle before it stops moving, and she stumbles slightly as she regains her balance.

Lisbon helps Will up and guides him to the stairs. "I want you to look at your feet until we're out of the cabin," she says firmly. The last thing she needs is for him to see the bodies.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

They make it down the stairs and out the door quickly, and Will's eyes light up as soon as he sees Charlotte running toward him.

Lisbon watches, touched, as Will enfolds Charlotte in a tight embrace.

Charlotte begins to shake uncontrollably, hiding her face against Will's chest, and Lisbon feels like she should look away for fear of intruding on such an intimate moment.

The others appear behind her.

They walk toward Jane, who reaches for Lisbon, pulling her against his side. "Is there any evidence that you were here?" he says, his lips at her ear.

She shakes her head.

"I wiped down everything we touched," confirms Cho.

"Then let's get out of here," says Jane. "I don't want to wait around for anyone else to show up."

Lisbon reaches over to Will, touching his shoulder gently. "We need to go," she says, and he looks up at her, his eyes rimmed in red.

Will presses a kiss to Charlotte's temple and pulls her toward the car, and they climb in before Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho. Lisbon shuts the door behind them and climbs in the passenger seat.

Jane starts the engine, and they slip away into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Alrighty folks. Here's the last chapter - epilogue should be up relatively soon. It seems a bit surreal to finally be tying this story up since I originally started writing it last summer, but that just means you all should keep an eye out for another multichapter from me in the next few weeks :) Anyway, on with the story!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Yes I'm a sinner_  
 _Yes I'm a saint_  
 _Whatever happens here_  
 _We remain_

* * *

They pay in cash for adjoining rooms in a shady hotel.

They congregate in the larger of the rooms, sprawled out across the floor and beds as they decide their next move. Cho and Lisbon bounce ideas back and forth, but nothing materializes. Van Pelt boots up her computer, and Rigsby listens to the discussion intently, scarfing down a Wendy's frosty from the fast food restaurant the next lot over. Jane watches Charlotte and Will, who sit on the floor at the end of one of the beds.

Charlotte blushes and smiles widely at something Will says.

Jane feels his jaw drop a fraction of an inch.

The last time Jane saw that look, it hadn't been on Charlotte, but on her mother.

Jane breathes deeply. That was the look Angela gave him when it was obvious that she was ridiculously and incandescently in love.

 _Charlotte is in love_.

He looks away, smiling to himself, and Lisbon catches his eye. Though she's in the middle of a discussion with Cho, she nods at Jane, and he realizes she's known about this development far before he figured it out. He shakes his head, still smiling.

Van Pelt speaks up suddenly. "Something's off about Kristina Frye's autopsy report," she says, frowning.

Jane looks over to where she's set up a temporary desk at the table by the window.

Van Pelt goes on. "The report says she died of complications due to a gunshot wound."

Jane shakes his head. "No," he says. "She got hit in the arm and lost a lot of blood, but she was relatively stable in the ICU."

"No way she would have died from that in the hospital," agrees Cho.

Rigsby tosses the empty paper cup into the garbage bin across the room. "Sounds like a cover up," he says darkly.

Lisbon stands up and walks over to Van Pelt. "What's the name of the medical examiner who completed the autopsy?"

Van Pelt scrolls down the page. "Someone named Walter Raglan," she says.

"Can you get me his number?"

Van Pelt punches in a few keys and turns the screen toward Lisbon. "There you go."

Lisbon grabs a burner phone from the table and turns it on, dialing the number. Jane watches in interest.

"Hello, Dr. Raglan?" says Lisbon, and Jane stands up to move toward her. "Yes, I'm Special Agent Jeanne Russell with the FBI. I'm so sorry to bother you at this hour, but I have a couple urgent questions for you regarding an autopsy you completed this past week." She pauses as she waits for him to respond. "The victim's name was Kristina Frye—mid-thirties, bright red hair, pale complexion."

As Lisbon listens to the doctor's response, a look of surprise crosses her face. "You didn't?" she says. "I'm looking at an autopsy report right now which says differently."

Jane has to restrain himself from putting his head near Lisbon's to listen to the conversation with her.

"Well, then—that's certainly something I need to look into. It appears as though someone's forged your signature on a false report." She nods. "Yes, I'll get that taken care of right away, Dr. Raglan. Thank you for your time. Goodnight."

She ends the call and looks up at Jane in astonishment. "He says no body fitting that description ever made it to his autopsy table."

Cho lets out a low whistle. "Meaning the report was a complete fake."

"Yes."

Jane reaches for Lisbon's elbow. "Kristina Frye may be alive," he says.

Rigsby moves toward them, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the table. "If she's alive, we need to find her," he says. "She's the only person we know of who may have information on Russell that we can use to take her down."

Van Pelt lets out a sigh, exasperated. "How the hell will we find her? She could be anywhere in California by now."

Jane holds his hand out for the burner phone, and Lisbon places it in his palm. He smiles. "We don't need to find her," he says. "She'll find us."

Lisbon gives him a curious look, and he dials a number from memory.

"Hello?" comes a wary answer.

"Bret," says Jane cheerily. "Glad you picked up."

"Not many people know my personal number, Patrick," says Stiles. "I figured it had to be important." He sighs. "I thought we were even. Surely you don't need another favor?"

"No," says Jane, smiling again. "I don't need a favor. I'm calling to make you a deal."

Stiles doesn't answer right away. Eventually, he says, "I'm listening."

"Both the FBI and CBI are currently looking at anything they can find on Brett Partridge, Thomas McAllister, Gale Bertram, Ray Haffner, and Kristina Frye for possible connections to Red John. I'm sure they will be intrigued to discover that all five of those individuals had ties to Visualize. Meaning, of course, that law enforcement agencies would swarm down around your headquarters. And, unfortunately, these kinds of investigations tend to tarnish reputations—possibly affecting future recruitment."

"What are you saying, Patrick?" asks Stiles.

"Lisbon's team will keep quiet about your connection to the fringe cult that broke off of Visualize if you agree to help us out."

Stiles gives an eerie laugh. "Is this blackmail?"

Jane smiles wryly. "Is it working?"

Ten seconds pass before Stiles speaks again. "What do you need?"

Jane grins.

* * *

They leave the hotel and drive through the night again, showing up at Visualize headquarters in the early hours of the morning.

Stiles greets them in the entrance hall. Jane notes immediately that Stiles seems to have aged since the last time they met a few months ago—his white hair is thinner, and there are more lines around the corners of his eyes.

However, Jane concedes that it is also three in the morning. Perhaps Stiles is just tired.

"Bret," says Jane warmly, walking up to the scowling man with his hand extended. Stiles shakes it, frowning.

"I've arranged to meet your three conditions," he says, glancing at the group lagging behind Jane. "We have the facilities to hide you all as long as necessary and have reached out to contact Mr. Donovan's parents to inform them that he is safe." Jane nods, pleased. "As for the last thing…" Stiles trails off, looking back at Jane. "I have my best people looking into Ms. Frye's whereabouts."

"So she _did_ stay connected with some of your members, then, after she left?"

Stiles nods, folding his arms across his chest. "Though we forbade our members from contacting Ms. Frye after she was dismissed, some chose to ignore our warnings. It is fortunate for you that they did so, and that they were willing to admit it."

"If you get her here," says Jane, "and we get what we need out of her, you'll never hear from me again."

"I sincerely hope so," says Stiles, and he gestures with his arm to show them down the hall.

* * *

Despite only managing four hours of sleep the night before, Lisbon feels wide awake.

Kristina Frye had shown up at the doors of Visualize twenty minutes ago, and a senior member of Visualize had then fetched Jane and Lisbon from their living quarters, where they'd left the others behind to look after Charlotte and Will. Now, the Visualize member—an older woman with peppered hair and piercing gray eyes—leads Jane and Lisbon down one of the large, curved hallways. They near the end of the corridor, and the woman gestures to the door of a conference room.

"Ms. Frye is waiting for you here," she says curtly and then moves away.

Jane waits until the woman is out of earshot before he leans in to whisper, "Are you sure you want to see Kristina again?"

It's a fair question, Lisbon has to admit. The last time she'd been in a room with Kristina Frye, the redhead had threatened to kill Jane's daughter if Lisbon didn't allow herself to be tortured.

Lisbon attempts to push these thoughts out of her mind. "No," she says, her voice soft but strong. She looks over at Jane. "But I have to."

She thinks Jane understands this. After all, he must feel similarly about the woman who threatened his daughter.

He nods tersely, then opens the door.

An enormous conference hall opens up before them, and the arched ceiling makes the room look even larger than it actually is. Kristina is seated at the end of a long, dark wooden table, and her eyes are immediately drawn to Lisbon as they enter.

Suddenly, Lisbon feels the tension in the room shift, and she looks over at Jane. His hands are clenched into fists in a rare show of emotion for him, and waves of anger seem to roll off of him and break over her. Lisbon shivers.

She places a hand on his upper arm. "Jane," she says quietly. He shakes himself and comes back to her.

Then they move toward Kristina.

Lisbon sits down next to her, but Jane chooses to remain standing, leaning against the wall instead.

Kristina's voice shakes as she speaks. "They said you could offer me a deal."

Lisbon turns her chair so that she cannot see Jane—she cannot stand the darkness she sees reflected in his eyes.

"If you help us take down Jeanne Russell," says Lisbon, "we can help you."

"No death penalty?"

These three words are as good as a confession. Lisbon suddenly feels the weight of Jane's hand on her shoulder, and she knows he's thinking along the same lines.

An innocent person wouldn't ask about avoiding the death penalty.

And Kristina Frye is far from innocent.

Lisbon and Jane had predicted that Kristina had been involved in some, if not most, of the murders committed by Jeanne Russell. And as Kristina very well knows, her life could be the cost she pays for this involvement.

What Kristina _doesn't_ know is that Jane and Lisbon have no evidence whatsoever of her involvement in those murders. All they have is Jeanne Russell's name.

Apparently this is enough to convince Kristina to make a deal.

Lisbon stares at Kristina. "No death penalty," she confirms. "But your information has to be of worth to us."

Kristina's eyes are wild as she begins speaking. "I was hired by Jeanne Russell to be her secretary," she says quickly. "I kept track of everything she did."

Lisbon frowns at this. "Why would Russell need a secretary?"

Jane speaks from behind her. "Not that kind of secretary," he says. "This kind." She turns to see him point a finger at his temple.

Understanding washes over Lisbon. "She hired you to keep a mental record for her," she says, turning back around. "Victims, people in her cult..."

"Yes," says Kristina. "The information was too damning to be written down or recorded in any way."

Lisbon leans back in her chair. "So you know the names of every single person who was involved with her."

Kristina nods. "Jeanne discovered me when I was just beginning my career as a psychic," she says. "She encouraged me to get involved in Visualize—to network there. I recruited Visualize members for her cult. Stiles figured out what I was attempting to do and kicked me out before I could be more successful."

Lisbon pulls out a small notebook and pen from the inside of her leather jacket. "I'm not really concerned with your life story, Kristina. What I want from you right now are names of the people involved in that cult." She slides the notebook and pen across the table. "All of them."

"And any witnesses who you think might be willing to testify against her," adds Jane.

Kristina cannot seem to hold either Jane or Lisbon's gaze; her eyes flash back and forth between them. Then she pulls the notebook toward her, opens it, and begins to write.

* * *

They give the names to Minelli, and within several hours, he has the team reinstated at the CBI.

"I've never seen such a damning case," says Minelli later. He and Lisbon are sitting in a standard CBI-issue SUV with Cho at the wheel, heading to Sacramento's FBI field office. Minelli continues. "Against anyone. In all my years at the CBI. Several of those names—they've already made deals. And just as many witnesses want to testify now that they know Red John won't be able to threaten to keep them quiet any longer." His tone is incredulous. "This is…this is outstanding, Teresa. Words cannot begin to express how incredibly proud I am."

"It was a team effort," Lisbon says weakly. "Without any one of us, we couldn't have done it."

Minelli glances back at Lisbon from his place in the passenger side seat. "I'm surprised Jane didn't want to come along to see the arrest for himself."

"I think it's more important for him to be with his daughter," she says softly. "She's his priority now."

Cho smirks. "One of his priorities," he corrects.

Lisbon flushes, and Minelli takes notice, looking back and forth between Cho and Lisbon. Cho's deadpan expression, of course, doesn't give anything away, but Minelli immediately reads the truth on Lisbon's face.

"It's about damn time," he says, grinning. "I always knew that man loved you—how else could you have kept him in line all those years?"

Even Cho has to smile at this.

* * *

The arrest is very anticlimactic, thinks Lisbon. She and Cho, as well as several officers from squad cars which had followed them, move through the FBI offices, drawing attention but no resistance. When they enter Russell's private office, she looks up at them, clearly shocked, and she doesn't even have time to reach for her weapon before Cho is forcing her into handcuffs and Lisbon is reciting the charges against her as well as her rights.

Lisbon slams the door of the squad car containing Red John and climbs back into the SUV to lead the way back to the CBI. She calls Jane on her cell phone.

"It's over," she says softly. Her voice breaks on her next words. "It's done."

* * *

That night, she reaches for him automatically as she climbs into bed and finds him shaking uncontrollably.

Only when she wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him against her, do the tremors begin to subside.

* * *

The entire group—Jane, Lisbon, Charlotte, Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and the Donovans—are put under surveillance as the CBI team works late at headquarters, logging hours and hours of interviews as they put together a case against Jeanne Russell and her fringe cult. By the end of the week, they've accounted for every person on Kristina's list, and Lisbon invites the team over to her condo for dinner to celebrate. Jane, however, does most of the cooking; Lisbon works with Van Pelt to install a new security system.

At dinner, Will's parents reveal they have decided to set their house up for sale. Though they don't give a reason, to Jane it is obvious—it must be excruciatingly painful to walk the halls where their son was taken from them. It will be easier to put this ordeal behind them if they are not constantly reminded of it.

After this revelation, Jane suggests that they look into moving to Sacramento. "I found it to be a great place to start over," he says. "Plus," he adds, "I can tell you where all the good school districts are."

Charlotte flashes him a grin at his words.

Later that night, the Donovans have returned to their hotel (with a CBI vehicle in tow), and the door has just closed behind Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt. Jane watches as Lisbon checks the security system and then walks over to the living room, where he and Charlotte are sitting on the couch. He reaches for Lisbon, opening up an arm, and she settles against him, tucking her feet underneath her.

"So," she says to Jane, and Charlotte glances over at them from the other end of the couch. "You've been looking at school districts?"

Jane nods. "It won't be long until summer is over," he says. "I'd like to be settled by the time school starts back up."

"Have you looked at places yet?"

Her tone is hesitant, and he smiles at her, knowing that she's carefully chosen her words in an attempt to figure out where she fits into his plans.

Before he can clarify, Charlotte speaks up. "He was waiting until the three of us could look at places together," she says. She looks at Lisbon, her expression suddenly unsure. "That is, if that's what you want."

Lisbon cannot speak. Instead, she just nods.

Charlotte smiles broadly. "Good," she says, "because I've already started making plans." She leans toward Lisbon. "We need at least four bedrooms—one for you and Dad, one for me, obviously—"

"—and what are the other two for?" asks Jane, bemused.

"Well, one's for a guest bedroom," says Charlotte, as though this is obvious. "And one could be a possible nursery."

Jane glances at Lisbon, and he's pretty sure her look of incredulity is reflected on his face.

Charlotte shrugs. "Come on," she says. "It's no secret that it's something you both want."

Jane turns to Lisbon. "It really is unnerving," he admits. "I'm not sure how you put up with it."

"What?" she asks.

"Having someone know what you're thinking all the time."

Lisbon laughs, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Like father like daughter, I suppose," she says. "You better get used to it, Jane. She clearly takes after you."

Jane sighs, kissing Lisbon's temple and smiling over at Charlotte.

 _His family_.

He has a family again.

Yes, he could certainly get used to this.


	10. Epilogue

**AN: Thanks for seeing this story through until the very end! Hope you all enjoy the epilogue.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Whatever happens here_  
 _We remain_

* * *

 _Four months later_

"Too gauche," says Charlotte with a look of distaste.

Will nods slightly. "Yeah, too much," he agrees.

Jane gestures to the jeweler, indicating that she can put the selection away. "My girlfriend," he says, "won't want anything overstated. Simple yet elegant would be best."

The jeweler, a middle-aged woman with wise blue eyes, closes the display case. "Of course," she says. She moves down the rows of rings, leaving the more flamboyant designs behind. Jane, Will, and Charlotte follow her, and the woman gestures to the display now in front of her. "Is this more along the lines of what you were thinking?"

Charlotte nods immediately, and Jane smiles. His eyes rove across the rows as Charlotte does the same.

Six seconds later, he and Charlotte speak at the same time. "That one," they say, both pointing to a platinum band with three diamonds. The central diamond is larger, offset by the smaller stones on either side, and Jane can immediately imagine what it will look like on Lisbon's left hand.

Jane and Charlotte share a glance. She smiles softly, and he knows immediately what she's thinking.

Three diamonds—one for each member of their little family.

Charlotte turns to Will. "What do you think?" she asks.

"Perfect," he says.

The jeweler opens the case and picks up the ring carefully, handing it to Jane. He already knows it's the one, but he inspects it closer anyway then holds it out for Charlotte and Will to see.

They both nod at him, and Jane turns back to the jeweler.

"We'll take it," he says.

Charlotte gives Will a high-five, and Jane grins.

* * *

Lisbon leans into Jane, wrapping her arm around his as they stroll through the neighborhood, the setting sun behind them staining the sky a bright orange.

Though they've been in their new house for months now, they've finally unpacked the last box from the move. The small suburb just outside of Sacramento is officially their home.

Will and his parents, glad to leave Napa behind them, had ultimately decided to move to an adjacent neighborhood as well around the same time. Will and Charlotte had been equal parts nervous and excited to begin the year at a new school, but Lisbon thinks they have blossomed since the move. Charlotte had decided to take up dance lessons once again after trying out for and making her high school's dance team, and she'd persuaded Will to join show choir with her. Lisbon already has their first performance, set for early January, marked on the calendar in the kitchen.

And a week ago, Charlotte had told them during dinner that she currently had the highest grade in her biology class. Jane had groaned jokingly, noting that he needed to start hitting up casinos in order to pay for his daughter's impending medical school tuition.

It's the life Lisbon never realized she wanted.

But now that she has it, she's never letting go.

She smiles, thinking again of Charlotte. She glances over at Jane, who's already looking down at her with a soft expression.

"Is it date night for Charlotte and Will?" she asks.

When the two teenagers announced months ago that they had become a couple, Jane had taken the news much better than Lisbon expected, though she often wonders if he freaks out about this development on the inside. After all, Lisbon herself certainly has anxieties about Charlotte beginning to date, despite the fact that Will is truly one in a million as far as potential suitors go.

Jane shrugs in response to her question. "They're actually running an errand to help me out with something."

Lisbon raises an eyebrow at the vague comment but doesn't say anything, knowing that she won't be able to persuade him to tell her if he doesn't intend to.

Jane pulls her toward the neighborhood's community garden, and the red-orange from the sunset amplifies the already brilliant autumn colors of the trees around them. They set off down one of the paths, heading toward the gazebo in the center of the garden. Lisbon smiles again—the gazebo is one of her favorite places to end up after wandering around with Jane. There's something about the way the vines have climbed up and around it that makes the spot seem almost…

Magical.

When they step inside the gazebo, Jane turns toward her, reaching for her hands. Lisbon notices suddenly that he is trembling, and she looks up into his eyes, concerned.

His expression floors her—he is all emotion, intensity, and devotion, and Lisbon marvels at how far she and Jane have come.

 _He's allowing her to read him._ She feels herself begin to shake as well, and Jane rubs his thumbs over the back of her hands.

He takes a deep breath.

"When I lost my family," Jane begins, his voice rough but somehow soft at the same time, "I closed myself off. It was easier—it was _safer_ —that way." He shrugs. "I don't regret that decision—it kept me alive. But when I met you, I suddenly knew there was a difference between being alive and truly living." He pauses, composing himself before continuing. "The most terrifying thing I've ever done in my life was decide that I wanted to truly live. But I knew you'd be there beside me, helping me whenever I needed you, and that gave me courage."

His gaze is so bright, so brilliant, that it is difficult for Lisbon to keep holding it. But at the same time, she finds herself helpless to look away.

She squeezes his hand in encouragement.

Jane swallows nervously. "So I started opening myself up again. I opened my heart. And imagine my surprise," he says, pausing to lift her hands to his chest, "when I figured out that you'd settled there."

Lisbon attempts to smile at him, but she thinks the effect is slightly ruined by the tears beginning to run down her face.

"I love you, Lisbon," Jane says, blinking rapidly. "I love your passion, your tenacity, and your heart, and I love that you love Charlotte. You protect her like she's your own child, and I don't know if I can ever express how much that means to me. I know we already consider ourselves to be a family," he says, pausing as he reaches into his vest pocket. He drops to one knee, and Lisbon can't help but gasp, one hand going to cover her mouth, as he opens the velvet box in his hand.

"Will you do me the honor of making our family official? Teresa, will you marry me?"

Lisbon swipes at the tears around her eyes so that she can see Jane more clearly. "Yes," she breathes immediately. "Of course I will, Jane. Yes, of course."

She sees the relief in his smile and has to roll her eyes slightly—did he honestly think she would say no? But then he is kissing her, and she forgets to think for the next minute or so.

Eventually, he pulls back, and she notices for the first time a weight on her left hand.

She lays the hand on his chest, and they both look down at the ring, identical expressions of awe on their faces.

Jane catches Lisbon's eye again and points across the garden. "Smile," he says.

Lisbon gives him a confused look. "What?"

"I recruited some very special photographers to capture the occasion," he explains, pointing again.

Lisbon looks down the walkway. Sure enough, Charlotte and Will peek out from their hiding place, both holding long-range cameras. Lisbon grins broadly, turning back to Jane, and she has a funny feeling that the two teenagers have begun taking pictures again.

Jane leans down to give Lisbon another slow, sweet kiss. After a few seconds, Lisbon is the one to pull away, and she waves to Charlotte down the walkway. "Come here!" she calls. Jane takes her hand as Charlotte and Will race toward the gazebo.

She reaches out for Charlotte, who sets her camera down carefully. Lisbon moves the teenager to stand between her and Jane, and the three of them tangle their arms around each other and look at Will, smiling as he snaps the picture.

Will glances down at the screen and grins. "Perfect," he says.

And it is.


End file.
